


Into The Dark

by dontmindme_imafangirl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Gangs, Gangsters, KuroKen - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:21:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6713914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontmindme_imafangirl/pseuds/dontmindme_imafangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroo and Kenma haven't had an easy life.<br/>But so long as they had each other, they were fine, building a dependancy so strong that only situations like theirs could bring.<br/>Yet that dependancy might as well be their downfall.</p><p> </p><p>Gangsters!AU, of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hit and Run

**Author's Note:**

> I tried posting this before but I think it got lost?? So I'm posting again.  
> I was originally going to wait to post this on Monday, but I couldn't, so here we are.
> 
> This is what happens when I listen to too much Lana Del Ray and The Weeknd, lol.  
> Chapter's title's by Lana's "Hit it and Run" song! :)

**

Hot summer days were here. It took a while, the winter this year so heavy that it seemed like summer would never come. But now here it was, unbearable heat and complete stillness, barely a soul wondering in the streets, let alone in long roads, intersections between cities. No one travelled when the sky was oozing this much warmth, not unless they were insane or running away from something.

Hence, it’s not rare for all sorts of people to stop for gas and a coffee, not in the middle of a highway deserted for miles on end other than here, in a small gas station owned by a single man.  
It’s common to see all sorts of fuck-ups, business men, runaways, stop and fuel up, then leave never to be seen again.

So when a girl with golden hair and equally bright eyes stepped in, the old sweaty man didn’t even look away from his newspaper, the trembling of her body lost over his intense focus on the article he was engrossed with, yellowed eyes ignoring his surroundings.

“I’m-I’m sorry, mister? Can you help me?”

He glanced down, looking straight into a pair of bright brimming eyes, a girl no older than 14 or 15 shivering in front of him.

“Hey kid, what’s wrong?”  
Young or not, she was beautiful, slim shaking body wrapped in skinny jeans and a white long shirt and cardigan that had fallen down on one of her small shoulders, pink quivering lips hidden behind her sleeve.

“I-um, I lost my daddy…he said he was going to go put gas in the car and I can’t find him, I…”  
She sniffed, moving her hand to tuck some loose strands of hair behind her ear, long blonde tuffs framing her face and reaching down to her shoulders.

“Okay…did you like uh, look around?”  
He couldn’t be assed to move away from his seat, not when the sun was this up high in the sky and blistering hot, his stained tank top sticking to his stomach. 

She nodded. “I can’t find him, please…” she had such a childish innocence written on her face, that he couldn’t help but sigh, putting his newspaper down and walking around the counter to reach for her hand.

“Alright kiddo, let’s go look outside for your dad.” He smiler behind his gray, yellowing mustache, teeth stained and rotting. 

She looked hesitant for a moment but reached for the outstretched hand, the difference between his big sweaty palm and her slender wrist terrifying.

He pulled her out and into the parking lot, pointing at cars and asking if any of them was her dad’s but she shook her head, seeming more distressed by the minute.

He was about to give up, tell her to go back in the shop and call the cops, but heard someone yell from across the lot.

“Angel! What are you doing?!”

The girl perked up, eyes widening when she turned her head and saw the man.

“Daddy!”  
She let go of his sweaty hand and moved to the man, hugging him tight around the waist as he grinned and ruffled her hair.

The man couldn’t have been that old; his face was hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but his messy nest of hair and built physique hidden behind a white shirt and leather jacket didn’t scream ‘father material’ to him.

Ah, but what can you do. All sorts of people walk around places like this.

“I thought I told you to wait inside the car; I was just going to go pump some air in the tires. Sorry, did she cause you any trouble?” he turned and presumably looked at the old man; he couldn’t tell if he did or not behind the dark framed sunglasses.

“No it’s fine, lil’ kid was worried. Take better care of ‘er next time, she could’ve gotten lost y’know? Lots of weird people walking around here, lots of street gangs goin’ around.”

The girl seemed to cower over his words, clenching her fists on her dad’s shirt.  
“Ah yeah. You’re right. " He turned his face to the girl, tugging her close.  
"Sorry Angel. Anyway, c’mon, we got to hit the road.”

She let go of his waist to settle on holding his sleeve, turning back at the old man to smile and wave, childish innocence making the man shake his head in amusement and wave back.

Who knew kids these days could still be this bright.

****

They were in the car in 2 minutes flat, Kuroo starting the engine immediately and pulling out the parking lot, not waiting for either one to put on their seat belts, car hidden in-between trees and on the other end of the lot from the shop.

“Did you get it?”  
“Yeah, of course I did.”  
“Cameras?”  
“Broke them, didn’t show my face.”  
“Security alarm?”  
“You disabled that, idiot.”  
“Any witnesses?”  
“One weird-smelling guy; I knocked him out, shouldn’t be up for a while.”  
“Did you check for hidden cash?”  
“Fuck Kenma, this isn’t our first robbery! I know what I’m doing.” he shrieked as he pulled the car back into the highway, hitting the pedal in hopes they’d make it away before the owner realised the cashier was dried out, his security cameras broken and systems disabled.

“…Did you get me liquorice?”  
Kuroo laughed at that, nodding his head to the back of the car.

Kenma smiled back, twisting his body to move his hands to the back of the car, grabbing for a small box of flavoured liquorice sticks, skinny feet squiggling to keep him steady.

“Really, what am I gonna do with you. We’re lucky you can still pass as a girl, being so petite and all. Don’t you dare get a random growth spurt when you turn my age, you hear me?”

Kenma hummed, mouth busy biting down on a stick of liquorice.  
“It’s already harder to make my voice sound that high-pitched.” he complained, moving a hand to his throat. “Plus, Kuroo. You’re just a year older.”

He glared at him from the side of his eyes, trying to keep focused on the road.  
“Yeah but when you’re 16 that one year matters. You’ll see! Remember how scrawny I was last year? _Ugh._ ”

_Then again, our condition wasn’t the best last year_ he thought to himself. They started doing this-this steal and run ordeal about two years ago, but only got good at it lately. The times they almost got caught or had to leave empty-handed had been so frequent they could barely afford a meal a day, if that. 

But they made it through. They always did, so long as they were together, they were invincible. So long as they were away from…

“You’re thinking unnecessary thoughts. Stop it.”

He huffed a laugh.  
“So observant kitten. You should read our _acquintances_ like that too.” 

Kenma scrunched his nose. “Who said I don’t?”

“True, true”, he hummed, “After all-those fools don’t call you the Backbone of Nekoma for nothing, now do they?” he smiled bitterly around the words, hating that he had to share Kenma, his talents, with other people, despite how necessary it was to their survival. He didn’t notice his fingers clenching themselves into the steering wheel, knuckles turning white at the pressure.

“Kuroo. Less thinking, more driving.” 

He huffed, but felt the younger boy shift from his seat and close to his, placing a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“What was that for?” he grinned.

Kenma pulled out a box of cigarettes from the passenger seat’s cabinet, lighting it and offering it to Kuroo, hating the smell that stuck to his fingers. Kuroo gratefully took it with his mouth from in-between Kenma’s fingers, letting the smoke remove the adrenaline from his body.

“To distract you from stupid thoughts.”

Kuroo laughed at that, moving his eyes to the rear-view mirror. Good, they weren’t being chased. How pathetic it would be, for the most feared duo of the group to be caught after a stupid gas station robbery.

“You know, that’s not only distracting me from _stupid_ thoughts. More like it’s distracting me from everything but you.”

Kenma opened his window to let the scent of smoke out, tilting his face to rest on his palm.  
“Good.”

He glanced at him from the side of his vision, a sly grin already on his smile.  
“Geez, what a possessive cat I got. How about you monopolise me some more?” 

He saw Kenma glare, but a small smile formed on his lips, still wrapped around the piece of liquorice, savouring the bittersweet flavour.

“Don’t get cocky. You’ll get more than that when we get back.”

Kuroo noted the lack of the word _home_ but said nothing about it, more fixated on the promise of later.

“Best not forget that and go play games with Yaku when we get back.”

Kenma smiled, small and soft and befitting of his little body, of the look of innocent youth still clinging to his being despite it being long gone from his existence.

“I won’t” he promised, “You’re worth more than Yaku or any of them, any day.”

Kuroo nodded but kept his eyes on the road, Kenma seemingly favouring the silence spreading over them, lazily looking towards the trees running by them, endless green reminding both of them of more favourable times.

He tried to shift his attention away, but couldn’t, he had to say it, but knew that’d only earn him a kick in the shin-

Kenma sighed.  
“Go ahead. I was expecting you to say it anyway”. He moved his hand in the air as if lazily giving Kuroo permission, who exhaled happily.

“I’m sorry” he laughed, “but _God_ ; Can’t you call me daddy more often? Y’know, not just for the purpose of robbing a shop?”

Kenma really _did_ glare at him this time, making him almost lose control of the steering wheel.

“No.”  
“But-“  
“Never.”  
“Kitten please~”  
“Don’t.”

Kuroo pouted but dropped it, knowing that this is a lost argument.  
But then he noticed the tug of lips and dust of pink on Kenma’s face.

…. _Maybe not completely lost_.

 

**


	2. Off to the races

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No rest for the wicked-wicked in this case being two grumpy cats that just keep getting one errand after another.  
> Also, lots of cat allegories and mentions. Because, why not.

“Yo Kuroo. Boss was looking for you two.”

They had just set foot into the apartment complex, parking the car a few blocks down and leaving the keys in, all evidence of their heist gone, when Inuoka spotted them.

“Fuck off. Not in the mood.”   
Kenma looked at the scene with a total apathy, letting Kuroo do the talking for him.

“Sorry man, says it’s important. I wouldn’t opt out if I were you.”  
“Nope. No. I got plans. _Important_ plans, that absolutely don’t involve Boss.” he pointedly looked at Kenma, who just shrugged, flipping his phone open and blatantly ignoring the two men.

Inuoka fixed his eyes on Kuroo, knowing that though it was Kuroo he was trying to persuade, it’d be Kenma that would make the final decision. They weren’t called the ‘Feared Duo’ for noting after all.  
“And those plans can wait. Are you sure you wanna let a reward like the one he’ll probably be offering for something… _else?_ ” he nodded in Kenma’s direction, his face forming a furious blush.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, about to retort, but felt a hand on his back.  
“Let’s go.”  
“But-“  
“Now.” Kenma let his hand drop and moved out of the apartment complex and to the opposite direction, phone still in hand.

Kuroo sighed but followed, not before turning back to Inuoka and fixing him a deathly glare, making the boy gulp and move away, as if Kuroo’s look would kill him.

“This better be fucking worth it.” he groaned when he reached Kenma, who just shrugged in reply.

******************

Nekomata didn’t seem like a strict man. And he wasn’t, not quite.  
Not as long as you obediently complied to his demands.

But it has been more than a year, and his new cats, the two he adopted as kittens and became ferocious wildcats in the matter of a year, still wouldn’t bow their head to him, listen to him unconditionally like all his other strays.

He assumed it was because of that day. The day he discovered Kuroo Tetsurou and Kozume Kenma.

**  
 __  
“I still don’t get why it has to be this one.”  
“Because, if you pawn that painting at the black market, it’ll cost a fucking fortune kitten. We could use the cash, big time.”  
“But the security around the place-there’s two bodyguards at night and one in the day. The surveillance is tight, unless you have an access card it’s impossible to go in.”  
“Well damn, I wonder who’s going to convince that pretty lady over there with the security card around her neck to get us in tonight?”

_Kenma raised an eyebrow at Kuroo.  
“She’s married.”_

_Kuroo shook his head, not about to believe his best friend’s antics.  
“No Kuroo, she is. Look at her hand-see the ring finger? Occupied.”_

_Kuroo squinted, finally taking note of the subtle ring Kenma had managed to take note of through the glass window._   
_“Fuck. Alright, what about that guy?” he nodded his head to the direction of a man that had just walked into the room, who had said something to the woman making her rush out._

_“Yeah, he seems fine, and he’s wearing a security guard’s uniform, so he should have an access card. I can go. I was already prepared for something like this to happen.”_

_Kuroo seemed to hesitate, his mouth turning to a deep frown. Kenma sighed and kissed the pout on his lips, hastily before getting up and moving to cross the street._

_“Don’t worry, I’ll be fast.”_

_“You always are.” Kuroo muttered under his breath, but let Kenma go, knowing that his figure and observance could lure anyone._

_Kuroo noticed Kenma entering the shop, smiling at the man with a dripping disgusting fake smile, board and wide, his fingers twisting the extensions that made his hair seem like they reached quite further than his shoulders, pointing at paintings and asking the man to explain things which he gladly seemed to do, his body language showing how responsive he was to Kenma’s flirting, smiling and leaning close._

_He didn’t even notice when Kenma slipped his hand in his pocket, grabbing the card straight out of it with fluid movements, like a cat snatching her pray.  
Kuroo saw Kenma smile again, even leaning to touch his hand on the man’s forearm, before seemingly opening his phone and rushing out, turning back to the man presumably to apologise and leave._

**

The next day, when Nekomata opened the store, he found a big gap on the wall where his most prized possession, the most expensive painting he had, was gone, leaving nothing but a scratch, as if a cat was toying with it, big sharp claws dipping themselves into the wall.

Most people, upon the sight, would call the police, confirm that a robbery took place.  
But Nekomata wasn’t most people.

He searched high and low, went through any surveillance material there is, until he found what he needed-a young blonde kid, talking with his employee, that flirtatious idiot. Slipping the security card straight out of his pocket. The idiot didn’t even notice the slip of hand, too busy making moon-eyes at the person talking to him.  
He rewinded the video, checked every other camera of the store at that time, until he found the outside camera filming directly out and across the street, seeing the image of a young seemingly wary man standing outside for the period of time the girl was in.  
And voila.

He had to call a few favours of course, and had to give a call to the one man he despised the most-but Karasunos’ leader was infamous for his tracking skills, and soon enough, he located the two kids, leaving the rest up to Nekomata.

He did think of many things to do with them, but in the end, he knew that if they were able to steal from _him_ , they were good. Too good to not be used to his advantage.

And so, he did what any rational man his age would do. He took in the two strays, hoping to teach them his ways.  
Yet he never expected the two cats to surpass him.  
**

 

He replied with a weary ‘yes’ when he heard the knock on the door, already knowing who it was.

His assistant opened the door to his office, located at the highest floor of the shop, shaky legs keeping her in place.  
She was a sweet young thing, completely unknowing as to Nekomata’s…not-legal activities. For all she knew, he was merely her employer that owned an art shop, one that could may as well cost more than anything she had ever laid eyes on.

“Um, sir-these young boy and um, older boy, they say they want to see you?” she trembled, intimidated by Kuroo no doubt.

“Yes dear, please send them in.” he smiled at her and she nodded, moving away to let Kuroo and Kenma move into the room.

Kuroo’s presence was menacing as always, an aura of intimidation surrounding his whole existence; it made one wonder what circumstances raised him like that.  
And yet, the truly terrifying one, the sharp-eyed cat, was hiding besides the big black cat all along. 

Kenma was looking at something on his phone, not even bothering to greet his boss. He merely looked up when he coughed politely, trying to catch his attention, so he gave up, turning to face Kuroo instead.

“Boys. You must be wondering why I called you in.”

“Damn right we do. We just got back after that heist you assigned us _on the other fucking end of the city_. It took me four hours to drive back.”

“Ah yes, thank you for that-it went smoothly as always. I’ll give you your share of the profits once we, well, _clean up the mess_.”

Kenma looked up at that, a small smirk playing on his lips.

“At least we kept the briefcase clean.”

Kuroo nodded, face serious. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to get blood on the money. The rest is burnable.”

Nekomata gulped. Though he dealt with violence for a living, he could never get over how…apathetic both these kids were about it.  
What did they see, what happened to them to cause this level of complete denial?

“Yes well, as I said-we’re dealing with that. Meanwhile I want you two on something more…personal. Probably more to you than Kenma, Kuroo.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, until realisation hit him.  
“Oh hell no. Not again.”

“I truly am sorry, but yes. He’s an important ally, we’d have no way to face Shiratorizawa without him. And he asked for _you_ specifically.” he said, pointing to both of the boys.  
Of course, no one around here was daft enough to think they could assign a job to only one of the two. Where one cat went, the other followed, always.

“What did that cocky bastard want this time.”

Nekomata sighed, moving to open a drawer and remove a sealed envelope with a crown on the stamp, engraved in blood red like a loyal letter.

He moved the letter to Kuroo who begrudgingly grabbed it, huffing when he ripped the seal open with the letter knife Nekomata offered.  
Kuroo read through it hastily, before moving to give it to Kenma.

“Another one. Another _fucking_ one. How many people does this guy want dead?! And why won’t he send his loyal _guard dog_ to do his business for him? What does he need _us_ for?”

Nekomata smiled, sizing up the fury in Kuroo’s frantic movements, huffs of air seeping into his body when he stopped. Kenma had placed a hand on his back and just like that, he came to a calm, as if all it took was that one touch to maintain his composure.

“Ah, but that’s the thing; for jobs like this a dog won’t do the job. Only cats, discreet and so quiet in the night can move fast enough to strike without a sound.” 

He smiled when he saw that the figurative speech was not lost on the two kids, despite the little education they managed to have with the lives they lead-he had Yaku teach them once or twice a week, hoping they’d get some more knowledge into their young brains, something more than just blood and gore.

“I don’t wanna work for him. That guy’s pompous and barks out commands like it’s nothing.”

Kenma moved close, his stance tall and proud, hand on Kuroo’s shoulder. He didn't speak a single word, but Kuroo looked at him and seemed to understand everything the younger boy was conveying, though their conversation was completely lost on Nekomata, who merely saw two people look at each other.

And in the moment it took for the communication to happen, it was gone just as fast, Kuroo turning back to Nekomata with a grin and a wave, letting him know they’d take the job. Nekomata nodded in agreement and shooed the boys out of his office, letting them scuffle out with light excited steps, Kuroo’s arm finding its way around Kenma’s waist.

They were kids. It was hard to remember some times, when one saw the rough edges around Kuroos’ eyes, the scarred and bruised frail body of Kenma’s, the hard steel eyes they had when they weren’t looking at each other. But under the metal amor, under the pain and hurt and blood on their hands, they were nothing but kids, two teenagers struggling for survival, clinging to each other without hope for anything in the world than to keep one another safe. 

Two kids that just forgot how to be kids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took a while to post this-I finally have a bit of a breather in-between exams, so yeah ;-;
> 
> I'm not so sure I liked the way this chapter came out so I may come back to edit it, but either way, I do hope you enjoy! 
> 
> If you'd like to contact me, my tumblr's dontmindme-imafangirl.tumblr.com ((I'd hyperlink it but I haven't got the slightest idea how. If you do please do let me know, lol <3))
> 
> Title's by Lana Del Ray's 'Off to the Races'


	3. Flashbacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmares and work.   
> Kenma being observant and Kuroo being grumpy.  
> All in all, same old same old.

All he could remember before that day was dark.   
Pitch black endless night enveloping all that he was, all that he lived.  
Sure, Kuroo remembered bits and pieces of what he had been through as a child, though his parents faces could barely be brought to mind-he remembered feelings more than faces and bodies. A certain kind of warmth he couldn’t ever replicate, lost before he could actually grasp it.

But then there was that day. When every ounce of darkness was beamed away, melted into nothingness by a set of golden eyes that held the sun in them. How could he ever forget? That day beautifully haunts him to this day.

The day he met Kenma.

 

***  
 __  
“I’m telling you Tetsuro, if we just distract her and grab an extra loaf during lunchtime, she’ll never notice!”  
“Yeah, one of us can ask her something and the other can butt in and grab it before she turns around!”

_Kuroo huffed at the expectant faces of his friends, small arms crossing in front of his chest.  
“You’re two, you can pull it off on your own. I ain’t getting involved in this.”_

_“But Kuroo”, the youngest boy, Sakunami, whined, “you’re the Black Cat! You’re the one that always smuggles in banned things without ever being caught!”_

_“Yeah!” the other boy, Takeru nodded, his hands balled into fists on his sides, “only you can pull it off quietly! Come on Kuroo, please!”_

_Kuroo sighed, moving to get off of the bunk bead he was perched on, swiftly meeting the floor in the space between his two friends._

_“Fine. But if we’re doing it let’s get going now, they’re gonna call us for lunch time soon anyway.”  
The kids squealed and followed Kuroo, the eldest of the group, practically clinging to each of his arms. Really, how could he not help these two idiots out?_

_But apparently, fate had other plans for him. Whilst Takeru and Sakunami distracted the lunch lady, Kuroo was about to grab a loaf of bread from the metal tray, when his hand met another hand, clashed and flinched back. He turned to see who could’ve possibly moved next to him so quietly that even he, the kid they called the ‘Black Cat of the orphanage’ for his stealthiness, didn’t even notice._

_He didn’t expect to meet the brightest burning gold he’d ever witnessed._

_Kuroo must’ve stared for a while, because the small boy looking up at him eventually scrunched its nose, quietly grabbing the bread Kuroo was aiming for, and left, setting it on its lunch tray and moving back and away from Kuroo, who felt like the warmth left with him. He was still slack-jawed when Takeru came up to him, grinning and asking if he got it. He forgot what he was even doing in the first place._

_Who was that kid? How was he so quiet? How could anyone ever sneak up on Kuroo, on the Black Cat himself?_

_He had answers and he needed questions, so he didn’t even bother to ask the child if he could sit next to him at the lunch table he had settled in at the far end of the hall, as isolated from the cheers and cries of the other kids as possible._

_Kuroo flopped down next to him, toying with an apple on his tray before allowing his gaze to wonder to the quiet kid, who didn’t even bother glaring at him for the intrusion._

_“So, little cat. Who are you? And why haven’t I seen you around?” he grinned slyly, hoping to coax words out of the kid with the raven hair and sun in his eyes, but to no avail; not only would the boy not look at him, he didn’t even attempt to move away or start eating or anything-he merely stared on, eyes fixated to a spot on the floor as if it was the only thing worth his interest._

_Kuroo frowned, trying to pry the boy a bit more with his words. He asked him his name, his age, but talking to a rock would’ve gotten him more response than this._

_A small strand of hair fell from where it was tugged gently behind the boys ear, and Kuroo couldn’t help himself-he moved a hand to tug the strand back.  
Yet before his hand made contact with the hair, the boy flinched, dropping off of his chair in the process and ending up a heaped mess on the floor. Kuroo’s hand was still extended in his direction, shocked by the intense response. He moved to help the boy stand up, held out his hand to him, but the kid just moved further into himself, shuffling backwards until his back met the wall, at which point he curled into a ball and let his hand nestle in-between his knees, pulling at the long locks on his head._

_Had Kuroo caused this? Was he the reason for this pain, for the shaken shoulders and small gasps? Could he ever stop spreading pain anywhere he went?_

_He went to touch the kid, but suddenly he looked up, a manic smile on his face, the golden eyes Kuroo was begging to look into now a crimson so deep it engraved itself behind Kuroo’s eyelids-it was as if everything around him had been splotched in blood, and when he looked down at himself, at the hand extending to the boy-he saw the thick red liquid drip from his fingers, foul-smelling odour engulfing him, engulfing the dark-haired boy and his manic smile, engulfing everything around him in a scarlet nothingness, the metallic taste so strong in his mouth he could feel it going down his throat, dissolving him from the inside bit by bit, until it swallowed him whole, destroying his body as if he was made of ashes of a cigarette, as if he was nothing more but smoke-_

_He was burning. His whole body was burning further and further until-  
_  
*****

He shot his eyes open, taking a minute to readjust to the night shadows that awaited him.

The warmth he felt radiating in front of his laying form reassured him that Kenma was there, silently watching over him. He moved a hand to grasp Kenma’s cheek, golden irises focused solely on him, evident even in the darkness of the night.

“You were having a nightmare.”  
Not a question. Not a comment. As always.

“Yeah. It’s nothing. Go back to bed.” the apology was quick to visit his lips, but he didn’t let it slide, knowing how much Kenma hated it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

His hand never left Kenma’s cheek, and he could feel the younger boy move a hand to meet his, nuzzling his face against Kuroo’s palm.

Of course he didn’t want to tell him. But he owed Kenma just as much. Despite having this same scene repeat itself for so many countless nights.

He let go of Kenma and settled back down on the bed, guiding the blonde boy to lie on his head on his chest, despite fearing he'd hear his uneasy heartbeat.

“I dreamt of the first day we met. Only when I tried to touch you, my hands were covered in blood. Your eyes were red.”

Kenma traced the hollows between Kuroo’s ribs, poking so gently that anyone else wouldn’t even notice.

“But your hands weren’t covered in blood. And my eyes aren’t red, nor were they ever.”

He heard Kenma sigh when he offered no reply. Neither of them was an idiot; they knew what the allegory here was.

“I flinched when you tried to touch me back then because I was afraid. The only touch I had ever received before that always ended up in violence. I equated touch with brutality, until you came along to show me I was wrong.” He gripped one of Kuroo’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together and moving it close to him so he could place a kiss on Kuroo’s knuckles. 

“You showed me how gentle a human touch can be. So excuse me if I don’t care how much blood is on your hands-I have just as much on mine.”

The gentleness in Kenma’s voice didn’t match the aggressiveness with which he was holding Kuroo’s hand, propping himself up to look him in the eye. Kuroo sighed, nudging Kenma so that he’d move closer, let him hide his face in the crook of the smaller boys’ neck, breathe in the scent of the only person that could ever calm him down, the only person he’d ever need.

“Seriously. How did the universe come up with you?”

He felt the sigh lose itself into his hair.

“Go to sleep Kuroo.”

****

“I still _don’t_ fucking get why we got to go pick that prick up. It’s not like he’ll _do_ anything. He’ll jut have his freaking guard dog bark orders at us until the job is done.”

“We’re not of his group. It makes sense for him to be suspicious.”   
Kenma mostly ignored the nagging in Kuroo’s voice, paying more attention to the book resting on his lap-he’d be damned if _Lev_ , of all people, made fun of him again for not knowing basic chemistry, and they had enough road ahead of them for him to revise the basics he was taught last week. 

Kuroo dared peek over at him, despite how much over the speed limit he was driving at.

“Why are you reading that crap? It’s not like you’ll get tested on them or anything.”

He knew that there was more to his words than that; the way he bit his bottom lip was enough indication for Kenma to know there was something on his mind.

“Lev was making fun of me for not knowing what Molar Weight was. Plus, it’s interesting. I wish I learned these things sooner.” He was aware that his words hit a nerve when Kuroo gripped the steering wheel just a bit tighter, how his foot shuffled slightly from the pedal. 

But that was his intention. This idiot would never let on what he was feeling unless backed into a corner, only ever letting himself talk if he was high or drunk and if it was pitch dark and cold outside, his face hidden away from Kenma. 

“I find history to be quite interesting as well. Though we’re still on the very basics-Yaku said something about it being third grade material. It’s still nice to learn though.” 

Apparently that was all it took for Kuroo to break, slumping his tensed shoulders and letting out a strained breath, eyes still not meeting Kenma’s.

“I’m sorry.”  
He let himself look away from the book, certain that his best option here was to feint ignorance.

“For what?”

“If I didn’t…if I didn’t suggest _that_ , you’d still be getting an education right now. Hell, maybe you’d have graduated early, made a name for yourself for being so smart.”

Kenma furrowed his eyebrows, realising where this was going. Yet he didn’t interrupt the older boy, knowing that if he didn’t let it all go from his chest, he’d just keep it locked up in there for years to come, just letting his thoughts eat him alive.

“And yet you’re here, stuck with me, doing _this_ ”, he shook his head, pointing at the road ahead, “when you could be doing so much fucking more. So much more than just, this.”

Kuroo was never good at expressing himself. Even with deliberate coaxing, even with harsh words or quiet reassurances; he was never a man of words. He’d rather express himself with gentle touches and hidden meaning in the way he carried himself, in the light (or darkness, all depending) behind his eyes-the way he’d bite his lips or let them form a thin strained line of a smile.   
Kenma knew all this. Sometimes he wished he didn’t.

“What about you?”

That made Kuroo turn his head in Kenma’s direction, giving him a short glance before focusing back on the street.

“What about me?”

“Would you have still done that? Would you have run away? Without me.”

The silent glare was enough of an answer.

“Would you have, if given a second chance, refused to run away _with_ me?”

He forgot how smart Kuroo was sometimes. That he’s the master of deception, turning the tables over instantly when the situation required it.

Though Kenma couldn’t see the reason he was playing this game with him. It’d been too many a years for Kuroo to doubt his loyalty.

“No. Every time, any time, I’d say yes.”

He didn’t move his eyes away from Kuroo’s face, studying him, analysing his response. The thin line his lips had been set into seemed to fade.   
Good.

“Do you understand?” He moved a hand over the one Kuroo was resting over the gear lever. “Where you go, I go. I’d never stay there, not without you. No where.”

Kuroo gulped, but let himself ease into the touch.   
“And I wouldn’t have left. Not without you. I wouldn’t be able to breathe.” He moved his hand from the handle to squeeze Kenmas’ into his own.

“Okay.”

Kuroo laughed.

“Yeah. Okay.”

 

****  
They arrived at the mansion just in time for Kenma to memorise the molar weight of all the elements of the first two columns of the periodic table. It was already dark outside, but neither of the boys minded-their jobs were mostly meant to be done in the night anyway.

As always, the pristine white marble of the entrance welcomed them, along with the black metal gate that awaited them wide open. 

Kuroo groaned but drove into the short road leading to the mansion, passing by an array of colours the massive garden spread out on each side of them offered. 

The two men were standing in front of the entrance already, one of them waving at the two boys once they arrived, the other one standing a bit further back.

“I want to run his pompous ass over.”  
“Kuroo, please don’t run over the person paying us for the job.”

He sighed but stopped the car, letting the man that slide into the backseat, only offering a gruff as a greeting.

“Yahoo~ You guys were late! I hope no car sex took place in the backseat, that’d be gross.” 

Oikawa Tooru was as vile as always, Kuroo thought. 

He was about to reply, when another man slid into the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Oy, don’t break it. It’s not my car.”

Iwaizumi Hajime, or as people around here called him, The Guard Dog, merely glared in reply, moving his hands to the side of his suit to hide the gun he was holding into his inner breast pocket.

“As chatty as always, aren’t you.”

“I’m sorry that not everyone’s as a pleasure to be around as me Kuroo.” Oikawa grinned, leaning his weight on the back of Kuroos’ chair, moving his head in the gap between Kuroo and Kenma.

“Cutie-chan! I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you? Did you grow any taller yet?”

Kenma gave him a glare that may as well have put Iwaizumi’s to shame.

Kuroo noted how a snarl formed on Kenma’s face, certain that he had the perfect response in his mind but did his best to stay quiet, not wanting to piss off their profit. 

“So, why do you want another person dead this time?” Kuroo groaned, moving the car back and out of the mansion, the gates automatically closing behind them.

“Oh no Tetsu-chan, I don’t want him _dead_ this time-I just need someone to…sneak him out of the event he’s heading to tonight, and into _my_ own little event I’m hosting. For him specifically.” 

The smile on Oikawa’s face was nothing short of terrifying.  
No wonder he became his gang’s leader despite barely being 19.

“And what did he do to piss-to um, upset you, this much?” Kenma bit his words back, still weary of the older boy despite him not seeming to mind the casual language.

 

“Well Kenma, I don't really like meddling people. Especially when said people meddle into _my_ affairs and _my_ profits. Apparently some people don’t quite understand that.” 

Kuroo heard Iwaizumi sigh before apparently yanking Oikawa’s collar and pushing him back to his seat, if the yelp Kuroo heard was indication enough.

“The guy was using the drugs instead of selling them, despite us having a very clear policy on who gets to become a drug dealer and who doesn’t. And it was the high end-stuff too; drugs meant to be sold to important clients.”

It was odd for the Guard Dog to be giving out this much information. But then again, so long as his boss didn’t seem to mind, who was Kuroo to care.

“Hm. Fair enough. So you want us to do what exactly?” Kuroo peeked at the backseat from the rearview mirror, noticing how Oikawa let his head rest on his Guard Dog’s shoulder, eyes shut but body tense, aware of everything around him.

“Sneak him out of the event tonight. He’s supposed to be selling drugs at it, but most probably he’ll be using them himself, the idiot. Just pull him out of there and hand him over to me. I’ll take it from there on. We’ll have a small team of our own to assist you if they must.” Hajime explained, shrugging Oikawa off of his shoulder.

“Awe, so we don’t get to have any fun this time.” Kuroo turned to look at Kenma, but he just shrugged, indifferent to what the task at hand was so long as they’d get paid for it.

“If it helps, you get to use _any means necessary_ to bring him to us. So long as he’s well enough to answer a few questions to me afterwards.” Oikawa laughed, yet his tone of voice wasn’t lacking an ounce of pure malice.

That seemed to be enough for Kuroo, who just smiled in response, letting Iwaizumi direct them to the club they were meant to take the man from.

***

They met up with the rest of Oikawa’s team once they climbed their way onto the buildings rooftop, meeting the three men dressed all in black, guns and knives tied from belts decorating their hips and thighs.

“Boys. Nice to see you all came prepared.” Oikawa smiled at the four men, opening his hands in a meek, ironic expression of vulnerability-everyone on that roof knew that if they dared even _look_ at Oikawa Tooru the wrong way they’d end up with their throats slit within the second by the Guard Dog, standing a mere foot away from his boss.

“Let’s get this fucking over with. I still got a stash I need to sell before the night’s over.”  
The boy Kuroo only knew as the ‘Mad Dog’ huffed, moving to put on a black glove over his hand.

“Yeah, and I still need to go settle that incident with our supplier. I’m supposed to be there” the boy, Kindaichi, if Kuroo remembered properly, mover his shirt’s sleeve to look over a watch, scrunching his eyebrows at the time, “in less than an hour.”

Kuroo heard Kenma huff, making him turn to look at the shorter boy standing next to him. In the time they took to get here, he had removed his sweater and jeans, exposing the tight black pants and shirt hiding underneath, a knife discreetly pushing on his hip.

“This won’t even take thirty minutes.” 

Kindaichi seemed to widen his eyes and nod obediently at Kenma, apparently intimidated by the blonde boy despite being far more built and armed than him.

“So. You’ve all seen the photograph of our target. He should currently be within the crowd downstairs, selling drugs to our clients in the club, but you’ll most probably find him in the bathroom, smoking our profits away.” Oikawa straightened his tie, turning to face Kenma and Kuroo.

“Now, my favourite cats; do what you’re best at and go get him for us. Call out Kunimi when you’re done” he nodded his head to a boy with a face that rivalled Kenma’s in apathy, “and he and Mad Dog-chan will take it from there. You just find Hajime after this and he’ll supply you with a hefty reward- _if_ you do the job well, of course.” 

He laughed, but they all knew what he meant-do your job and get rewarded, or fail and get a bullet in your head. 

Either way, Kuroo laughed, sliding his way to the door leading back down from the rooftop, but only after he slapped Oikawa’s back, making the older boy raise an eyebrow at him.

“If you brought us to do the job, you know it’ll be done well and through; we ain’t dogs, after all. We’re cats.” 

He didn’t turn to look at Oikawa-he knew that the grin was wiped off his face and was replaced with a menacing growl when he heard no snarky remark being thrown back at him.

He felt Kenma reach his side, and grabbed his hand, tugging him close to chastity kiss his forehead. By now it was already a form of ritual, a good luck charm they committed to before any job at hand. 

“Let’s get this over with”, he huffed, and Kenma nodded.

*******

They were done in less than twenty minutes.

After all, what sort of cats would they be if they didn’t?

Kunimi and the Mad Dog were waiting in the alleyway next to the club, guns and knives hid behind their coats, despite it being a surprisingly hot, humid night.

Kuroo all but kicked the unconscious man in front of Kunimi’s feet, already tied up and muffled with Kenma’s neat knots, despite him being unconscious already.

Kunimi, his face a mask of stoicism, looked up at Kuroo, letting the cigarette fall limp in between his lips.

“Is he dead?”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “Would we get the money if he was dead?”

Kunimi shook his head.

“Then hell no he’s not. Kenma just drugged him is all. You’d be surprised how easy it is to slip something into someone’s drink.”

“Especially if said someone is high as a kite.” 

Both men turned to look at Kenma, before Kuroo eroded into laughter, making even Kunimi break his mask for a second and chuckle.

“Don’t worry, he’ll wake up within the next twenty minutes. And no one saw us dragging him out-so all is good. Now where’s that shitty dog? We got a reward to take.”

Kunimi turned to the Mad Dog, who raised his head as if suddenly on alert.

“Kyotani. Take him to the van, I’ll take these two to Iwaizumi.”

The boy only let out a gruff in response, but picked up the man sprawled out over Kunimi’s feet like he weighed nothing, pushing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Kunimi turned to the two men, putting a hand on his hip.

“Well then. Time you two got your reward.”

**********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had such a massive writers block with this one...plus was studying like hell, so sorry for the late post!   
> I'll try and update more frequently from here on :)
> 
> Also you may have noticed I changed the boys' ages-I'm sorry about that, but it's necessary for the plot later on.  
> So, to make it easier for you:
> 
> Kenma is 16 (but barely, just assume he turned 16 maybe a few weeks before the first chapter took place)  
> Kuroo is 17 (Same with Kuroo, barely just 17)  
> Oikawa is 19  
> Iwaizumi is 19
> 
> And mainly everyone else ranges around the ages of 18 to 20-ish. Sorry about that! :)


	4. Good Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaku is just trying to be a good friend.  
> How his intentions are interpreted however, is another issue entirely.

The sound of a book slamming shut startled Kenma, hearing it despite the headphones covering his ears, engulfing his mind with soft indie music (he could almost hear Kuroo calling him hipster trash at the back of his head, but decided to ignore it).

Yaku had shut his books and moved them back in his bag, turning to stretch his arms over the table, his wide grin and shut eyes aimed at Kenma.  
Kenma raised an eyebrow, tucking the headphones down and around his neck.

“That’s enough studying for one day. Let’s call up Lev and go play some video games!” 

There was always this easy cheerfulness oozing from Yaku, a comforting aura that Kenma found he enjoyed having around, despite it not being quite the same comfort he felt with Kuroo. Though shorter and more frail than him, the smaller boy had a very strong sense of responsibility, almost like an older brother.  
Perhaps it was because of the amount of time he spent taking care of Lev, back in the day.

“I still had a few pages left to finish.”, Kenma pointed out, flipping the pages marked in his history book for Yaku to see, but the shorter boy merely snorted.

“Nope, you’ve done more than enough already. The material you covered in a day is what a high-schooler would learn in a month! Honestly, I feel like a proud teacher here.” he scolded, pushing the book away from Kenma, who just frowned at it, as if it was the textbooks’ fault.

“Now, let’s go do something fun! Let me just sent a text to our Russian idiot to let him know we’re going out and see if he’s joining us.”

Kenma failed to see why Yaku couldn’t just go find their taller friend, since Lev and Yaku lived on the apartment right above his and Kuroos’. Still, he let his friend hum and text his roommate, gathering up his own books and notes to shove at the far end of the kitchen table, making a mental note to clean up properly later .   
Yaku got up, shoving his phone back in the pocket of his sweater. He nudged Kenma to get up, who did so begrudgingly-as much as he was looking forward to the promise of video games, he didn’t really want to leave without Kuroo coming back home yet.

 

As if on cue, the apartment’s door slammed open, the sound of the metal handle meeting wall almost deafening. Kenma knew just by the sound what he was about to meet with.

Kuroo barged in, his face pale and eyes dark, barely focusing on his surroundings. 

His hands were balled into fists, clenching and unclenching into the material of his shirt, moving to run through his hair, anything that didn’t keep him still. 

This wasn’t good. Kuroo losing control like this was rare, but the few times he became this way, it was intense, usually leading to long nights and harsh words.

He moved slow, getting up and approaching Kuroo like he was a bewildered beast, hands moving protectively to either side of him without really touching him, only to alert him that he’s there, give him something to ground him to the moment.

“Yaku. Let’s leave the video games for another time.”

Kenma didn’t turn to look at him, eyes focused on Kuroos’ unfocused gaze. He heard a sound of protest emerging from the boy’s throat, and he spared a second to glare at him, before turning his attention back to Kuroo.

“Yaku. Go.”

But the boy was having none of it. He moved to Kenma’s side, taking in the paleness of Kuroo’s face, the sweat plastered on his forehead.

“Kuroo? What happened?” he moved a hand close to Kuroos’ arm, but Kenma slapped it away, a deep scowl forming on his face.

“Don’t touch him.”

He didn’t recognise his own voice; it was so rough, so raw with emotion.   
The harshness of his own words caused something in his stomach to turn unpleasantly, but he had no time to think much about it-he had Kuroo to think of, and if hurting Yaku was what it took to get him away from the taller man, then so be it. 

“Kenma, you’re not serious. He’s not okay, no matter how you look at it. Let me help!” he scrunched his eyebrows, straightening his back and giving a defiant glare at Kenma. 

Kenma clicked his tongue, but shifted his attention back to the task at hand; helping Kuroo. If Yaku wanted to be there, so be it, but he was a fool if he thought he’d let him touch Kuroo as he pleased. 

With slow deliberate movements, Kenma let one of his hands make contact with Kuroo’s biceps, keeping him steady despite the sudden flinch of the older boy.

It was almost like snapping someone out of a trance; his eyebrows shot up, Kuroo pushing himself away from Kenma only to return a second after, grabbing his arm with such force that it was sure to bruise. His eyes were wide, hazel almost engulfing his entire pupils.   
Kenma didn’t show the pain behind the touch, not letting his face betray him, and put a hand over the one gripping him.

“Hey. I’m here. It’s okay.” he cooed, edging closer to the touch that had now softened, as if the grip on his arm was the sole thing bringing colour back to Kuroo’s face. His other hand loosened the fist it was clenched into, moving behind Kenmas face and around his back, tugging him closer slowly, asking for permission to do so.

He let Kuroo pull him closer, let him hide his face into his hair, move to the crook of his neck and inhale deep, like Kenma’s scent was his only source of oxygen. 

“I’m sorry.”

Kenma scrunched his face; every time he heard Kuroo apologise he felt a twinge in his chest, a pain he didn’t want to experience ever again.

“Don’t be.”

His shoulders relaxed only when he felt Kuroo wrap both hands around him, when his laboured breath felt like it returned to normal. He turned to gaze over Kuroo’s head, meeting Yaku’s shocked expression. 

The boy had moved a few steps away from the pair, looking at the scene with a bewildered face, not quite sure what to make of it.

‘Leave’, he saw Kenma mouth, and apparently that’s all it took; he quietly moved around them to grab his bag, not wanting to shift Kuroo’s attention, and headed to the door.

“I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here. I swear.” 

Kenma heard the door close, before tugging himself free from Kuroo, letting the boy hold him at arm’s length.

He said nothing, but was sure Kuroo understood, _knew_ that the feeling was mutual.

“I mean it Kenma. When you asked me yesterday if I would, if I’d run away without you…the answer is no. A million times over, no. I’d never leave without you, and I’d never force you to leave with me. I mean, I know, I know how bad shit was there but if you’d rather stay and face everything, I’d have stood with you. You know that right?”

He was babbling, but Kenma tuned out his voice, his focus shifting on moving Kuroo to the bedroom and straight to bed, so the older boy could rest his weariness away, the pain that followed him like a constant weight on his shoulders.

Kuroo’s knees met the hilt of the bed before he fell over, stopping his rant to replace it with a gasp before finding himself sprawled out on the mattress. 

Kenma didn’t leave himself fall along, but moved to tug the bedsheets under Kuroo, trying to wrap him in them, but failing miserably-lifting weights was never his thing, and Kuroo’s weight was beyond what his petite figure could handle. 

He settled for grabbing a blanket from the foot of the bed and settling it over the older boy, who was still in a daze. Kenma tipped his head and kissed Kuroo’s forehead after making sure he was calmer, moving to leave the room.

A hand on his wrist stopped him in his tracks, and he felt Kuroo shuffling, sitting up on the bed with an expression that could only be one of pure shock.

“I’m not leaving. I’ll go to the kitchen and be back in a second.”

The pressure around his wrist hadn’t subsided, nor did his staring contest with Kuroo.

“I promise. I’m not leaving. I never will.”

Kuroo’s look of distaste made him scrunch his eyebrows, moving to cup both of the older man’s cheeks into his palms.

“Why are you making yourself believe all these feelings in you are one-sided?”

He felt the boy gasp at the stern expression he was giving him, but didn’t let go of his cheeks, didn’t soften his gaze.

“Do you really think I’d ever _want_ to leave you? Do you think that even if you ever _wanted me to_ that I’d just up and go?” 

His hold of Kuroo’s face hardened, knowing that he was probably causing pain if the reddening of his cheeks was anything to go by.

“Listen to me. You can call me kitten all you want, but I’m not your _pet_. You’re just as much _mine_ as I am yours. And if you ever _dared_ to consider leaving me, or tried to make _me_ leave you…” 

Kuroo gasped when Kenmas’ hands moved swiftly to grip his neck, gently enough to not choke him, but tight enough to cause discomfort. 

He brought his face close to Kuroos, feeling the taller man’s breath on his lips.  
“…I wouldn’t go without a fight. Nor would I let _you_ leave.”

His grip only loosened when Kuroo gulped and nodded, fear mixing with understanding in his eyes.

Kenma moved away, wiping his hands on his jeans. 

“Good. Now that we settled that, please let me go to the fucking kitchen and grab some tea for you, and the computer-we were on season 3 of The Walking Dead, weren’t we?”

At last Kuroo’s body seemed to relax back into the blanket wrapped around his body, letting himself lean back into the bed.

“Episode 5. We were on Season 3, episode 5.” 

Kenma huffed a laugh whilst he left the room, shaking his head to let Kuroo know he heard him.

**********

It was a few hours later and 6 more episodes into Walking Dead until Kuroo gathered the strength to talk to Kenma, whose back was settled into Kuroo’s chest and in-between his knees, the computer settled on his lap.

“Oikawa contacted me. This morning.”

He felt Kenma’s shoulders tense, but the blonde boy didn’t turn to look at him.

“He tried to convince me to join his team. Said he’d need my sniping skills, and that he had already talked through everything with that asshole Nekomata.”

Kenma didn’t pause the video, but he shifted his head to gaze at Kuroo, who frowned at his expression.

“Don’t give me that look. Like hell I would have ever said yes. I told both of them to shove their deals up their asses, and that there is no way I’m taking on a job alone, not even for a day.”

The shift of Kenma’s eyes, averting from him, made him grit his teeth. What should he have done? He didn’t want to piss either of the gang leaders off, of course not, but they were the idiots of this conversation-they should’ve known better than to suggest to him to go on a solo mission, let alone switch groups.

“If you had said yes, I would’ve found Oikawa and murdered him. On the spot.”

The calm demeanour that the boy nestled between his legs uttered those words with, sent a shiver down his spine.

“Oh?” Kuroo grinned, moving his head to meet Kenma’ profile. “Shouldn’t it be me that you’d kill?” 

“You’d be next.” 

His glare let him know he was serious, but Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh, tugging Kenma closer to him, despite that being physically impossible. 

“I’d deserve it.” he laughed, his hand meeting Kenma’s face so he could tilt his head to meet his beloved intense gold. 

“I mean it kitten. I’d deserve it. But that’ll never happen.” His voice was lower, the laugh gone, alerting Kenma of how serious he was.

“I know.” Kenma mouthed, and moved his lips to meet Kuroo’s, letting the boy move the computer off of his lap and twist so that his body was over his.

“Now then. How about we pause that video and leave it for later?” he grinned into Kenma’s mouth, who just patted around the bed until his fingers met the screen, slamming it shut and moving it away.

*******

The buzzing of the phone in his pocket barely registered in his brain, his vision still fuzzy from the previous incident.

Had Yaku really just witnessed that? What the hell was going on with those two?

Sure, he knew they were attached to the hip-hell, _everyone_ knew they were attached to the hip, but what happened just then couldn’t be a sign of a healthy relationship, be it friendly or romantic.

He tried to think back to how he acted with Lev.   
Yaku couldn’t deny that he _was_ very protective of him, especially at first. He’d follow his every step, making sure he was safe and sound, never letting him take on missions that could be a tad too risky, nor letting him go on any solo missions.

But that was then, and now Yaku knew what his best friend’s-and dare he say, _boyfriend’s_ capabilities were. More than that, he knew Lev could now make his own assessment of the situation, despite his light-hearted demanour.

So how could those two idiots, that knew each other better than themselves, be so, so…so _dependant_ on each other, to a point where it seemed terrifying? 

His head kept replaying to Kuroo’s blank stare, to the grip on Kenma’s wrist-to how _calmly_ Kenma had handled the whole thing, despite the strength his hand was being held with, certain to hurt. 

How many times had this happened before? How often? Why?

Before he realised it himself, he was right outside Boss’s office, the cries of his secretary at the shop far behind him. 

He didn’t even bother knocking, just slammed the door open, making Nekomata drop the cigarette he held between his fingers, before clumsily picking it back up.

“Morisuke, what are you-“

“Did you know about this?”

Nekomata gave him a blank stare, setting his cigarette back on the ashtray.

“Kuroo was acting all sorts of crazy just now. He was like a freaking animal, and I could do nothing but freeze in place when I saw him.” he moved, shutting the door behind him, leaning his weigh on it in hopes that it’d ground him in place. “I was _scared_. _Anyone_ would be scared if faced with that.”

Nekomata remained silent, but his look grew more understanding by the minute.

“And Kozume- God, Kozume just dealt with it like he’d been through it a million times. I tried to help out and he gave me this look…and his voice, it was like it was a different person, like a wild cat. All because I tried to touch Kuroo!”

He saw Nekomata shake his head, moving to grab another cigarette from his pack. He offered one to Yaku, but the shorter boy just shook his head.

“When I left, you know what I heard Kuroo say? He said something about how he wouldn’t know what to do without Kenma. Isn’t that guilt-tripping? That’s so much like guilt-tripping. I know they’ve been through real tough situations, and I want to help them as much as I can but…”

He shifted his gaze up from where it was fixated on the floor to meet Nekomatas face, that was settled on a small sad smile.

“Boss, this… _thing_ they have going on isn’t healthy. For either of them. They’re so dependant on one another, so lost in their own world, that I’m scared of what lengths they’d go to to maintain whatever twisted perception of love they have going on.”

Nekomata was well into his cigarette, blowing smoke before meeting Yaku’s gaze.

“And what exactly do you want me to do about it?”

Yaku forgot how dangerous his Boss is, how even through a calm demeanour, his words were chosen and careful, but with a certain sense of dread laced around them.

He gulped, but tried to conjure up the same courage that led him to his Boss’s door.

“Separate them, maybe. Not forever, just…at least for a job or something. Make them have some personal space, learn to depend on themselves rather then using each other as old broken crutches.”

He wasn’t expecting Nekomata to laugh, holding his stomach and sitting down onto his office chair to compose himself.

“Goodness Morisuke, I wasn’t expecting you to still be so _innocent_ after working here for so long.” he sighed, wiping tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes. “Don’t you think I tried? Don’t you think the reason Kuroo _was_ like that is exactly because of that?”

Yaku frowned, but Nekomata just shook his head, going back to his cigarette. 

“I was talking with Kuroo a while ago, tried to get him to go on a solo mission for Oikawaa. The bastard tried to hit me and promised that if I’d ever suggest he leaves Kozume one more time, he’d feed me to the dogs. The _dogs._ ”

Yaku’s eyes widened. “He can’t mean…”

The smile on Nekomata’s face didn’t give away any hint of fear or anger. 

“Yes he did. If I tried to split them, he’ll offer us up to Shiratorizawa, give ‘em all our intel. We’d be all kinds of screwed if that were to happen.” he smiled at Yaku, who just gulped, his mind apparently still trying to catch up to this new information.

“That’s the thing Morisuke. I keep telling you kids that when you’re part of a gang, you’re part of a family. You don’t walk alone-you walk in two’s and three’s and four’s. But those two don’t get that. They’d sell out each and every last one of us if it were to save each other.”

“But, they’re…” 

Nekomata registered the paleness on the young boy’s face, but shook his head, setting his chin on his knuckles.

“But they’re your friends? Perhaps. But if they had to choose between you or anyone else and between each other? They’d kill you on the spot, if that’s what it took.” he let his gaze linger on Yaku’s face, taking in the pained expression. 

“Look son, I don’t know the details of what they’ve been through before. I know that they’re both orphans that escaped their orphanage when they were young, stayed low long enough to be wiped off of the missing children list and be thought of as dead, and ended up here, with us. But what shit they went through before that, no one but them knows.” 

“It’s not that I don’t get it, Boss. I get it, but they’re only making things worse for one anohter. Can’t they see that?!” 

Nekomata sighed. 

“Even if they can-I doubt they care.”  
“So you’re suggesting we just let them be? Let them destroy one another?”

“If you value your life-then yes, that is the wisest suggestion.”

Yaku felt his heart drop to his feet.

“Those kids will be the death of one another, for that I’m nearly certain of”, Nekomata mumbled between puffs of smoke, “but maybe, just maybe-that same destructiveness will be the sole thing that saves them.”

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! I'm still here, still alive and kicking!  
> I am so SO sorry for the lack of updates. I'm smack down in my exam season, so please don't expect many chapters until the end of June...(though I'll be back to updating daily after that, promise <3).
> 
> I've been wanting to write some dark and twisted KuroKen but just...my fluff babies, this is so much harder than I expected ;-;
> 
> I will 100% finish this fic no matter what, so don't worry about it remaining undone, but it will take some more time than expected, since I'm drowning in exams right now. Please bear with me!
> 
> Also, I hope you look forward to future stuff-lots of developments from this chapter on, PLUS I may be getting around to a couple of one-shots for my previous fic, Play Pretend ;)
> 
> As always, please do leave Kudos/comments if you enjoy, and do message me on tumblr (dontmindme-imafangirl.tumblr.com) or here for any requests! <3
> 
> Oh, also...I may have thrown in one or two West Side Story references in there. Because y'know...why not. (Plus it's more befitting than Grease, whose soundtrack has been stuck in my head the past 24 hours, lol)


	5. Ultra violence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma and Kuroo are on another heist, until disaster strikes.

He could’ve sworn he didn’t even get to sleep for two hours, before his phone rang, the buzz of his ringtone forcing him to open his bleary eyes.

Ignoring it, he hit the ‘Decline’ button without even bothering to check the name on the screen, but that just made the phone silence momentarily, before it rang again, seemingly more persistent than before.

“Kuroo.”

Kenma mumbled under the covers, turning to him with one eye open, pout already on his lips; a sleepy Kenma is not a force to be reckoned with.

“Yeah yeah, I’ll just-“ he started, grabbing the phone, about to decline the call again, before having it grabbed out of his palm.

Kenma answered, throwing a pointed look to Kuroo, as if to blame him for the crude awakening.

“Boss. What is it?” 

Kuroo heard the muffled voice of Nekomata through the phone and sighed, plopping back down on the bed.  
“This better be fucking good”, he mumbled, letting Kenma handle the talking.

The contouring of Kenma’s expression alerted him that something wasn’t right-he’d always make this face when he didn’t agree to something, though it was rarely ever pointed at Kuroo. 

“Is that from a credible source?”

Nekomata’s voice sounded more stern, but Kenma seemed unfazed.  
“I _am_ doubting it, yes. If it is true, one wrong move and…no, I understand. Yes.”

Kenma seemed taken aback, eyes lowered and face turned away from Kuroo.  
“Sir, if the intel is right, then we’re not the best to settle this. He already knows us.” 

Kuroo scrunched an eyebrow, silently cursing Nekomata for doubting _his_ Kenma.

Before he could protest, Kenma bid his goodbye and shut the phone completely, fumbling about with the battery, digging his nails into it and throwing it out of the cell.

“Kenma?”  
He didn’t dare ask questions just yet, not when Kenma’s shoulders were still so tense and his focus was located elsewhere.

“Burn the phone when we get outside. Boss said he’ll replace it.” Kenma mentioned as he rummage the closet, for what seemed to Kuroo as his black skinny jeans and T-shirt.

The hand Kuroo placed on Kenma’s back made him stop in his tracks, finally letting his shoulders drop. 

“There’s word of a Shiratorizawa spy in Oikawa’s group.” he sighed, slowly easing back into Kuroo’s touch.

“Does Oikawa know?”  
“No. Or so Boss says. That guy’s so perceptive, I doubt he hasn’t noticed.”

Kuroo hummed, moving his hand to snake his way around Kenma’s waist, still sitting up on the bed.

“You’re worried that there’s a reason Oikawa hasn’t taken action yet.”

Kenma’s huff seemed to Kuroo as an agreement.

“I’m worried that if we meddle into his business without informing him, it’ll seem like a threat from Nekoma to Aoba Josai's integrity.”

_Without informing him?_

“You mean to say..”  
“Nekomata insists not to breathe a word of it to Oikawa. Says we can take the spy as hostage and seek answers about Ushijima’s whereabouts.”

Kuroo’s brow furrowed, finally able to fully assess the situation.

“Do you _want_ to warn Oikawa?” he nudged Kenma’s shoulder, but that merely prompted the younger boy to finally get up, fiddling around with the hem of his jeans, tugging them up and over his thighs.

“I don’t _want_ to do anything. Except sleep maybe.”

The deadpan look in his eyes made Kuroo huff a laugh, enjoying the domesticity of the whole ordeal, despite the situation.

“So what’s our plan?”  
“Easy enough. We go to Aoba Josai’s headquarters, find the spy and kidnap him. Boss sent me a description of the guy already, it should be on my phone.”

“Right now?” Kuroo pouted, noticing how Kenma was already fully dressed and looking through drawers for his guns.

“Right now Kuroo.”

The boy sighed, but obliged, getting up and away from the comfort of his bed.

 _Just another day on the job_ , Kuroo thought, _how bad could it be?_

 

*****  
“I don’t get it. How does Nekomata even _know_ who the spy is anyway? The one’s working the most often with that pompous dick Oikawa is us anyway.”

The lack of answer from Kenma wasn’t lost on Kuroo, nor was the quiet aversion of his eyes.  
For Kuroo, that was enough of an answer.

“You don’t think he…there’s no way he contacted _them_ , is there?”  
His grip on the steering wheel tightened, the pointed question making Kenma finally turn to look at him, the gleam of his eyes evident even when driving in pitch black.

“I don’t know. But there’s only one group that could find intel like that so easily, where even we couldn’t.”

“But isn’t Nekoma like, mortal enemies with them or something?”

Kuroo reminisced back to the day Yaku tried explaining to them the history of the Nekoma group. Through the continuous yawning and teasing with Kenma and Lev, he remembered Yaku saying something about this kinda infamous group located in the outskirts of town, and how they were like, Nekoma’s biggest friend and enemy at the same time.

“The crows. Yaku talked to us about it, how that fight took place some decades ago and they’ve been on tense terms ever since.”

“Oh!”, Kuroo perked up, finally remembering, “You mean _that_ right? The battle of the Dumpster.”

Kenma huffed a small laugh, nodding his head along.  
“It's _Battle at the Trash Dump._ They apparently help each other out once in a blue moon.”

Kuroo hummed, returning his focus to the road ahead of them.  
“Why do you reckon Nekoma asked for help now of all times?”

“Perhaps, they didn’t.”

Kuroo was about to ask what Kenma meant, what he thought of the whole ordeal. 

 

He was about to, but the piercing sound of a bullet meeting glass cut him off, the swivelling of the car and the sound of Kenma’s scream blending with the screech of the tires thumping in his ears.  
The last image in Kuroo's mind, was that of his friends', his beloved's eyes wide and his mouth agape, seemingly spelling out his name.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When did I become that type of horrible author that leaves their work unfinished for months on end, only to return with a cliffhanger ((and a shitty cliffhanger at that-I apologise for that, I'll probably come back and edit it!))
> 
> That being said, worry not! I'm back in the game, now fully rested and having passed all uni exams, so I will be uploading almost daily, just like with Play Pretend! I'm also working on some new one-shots, and got lots more in store...sorry for the very very big delay in posting new chapters, and I hope you enjoy the ones to come!
> 
> As always, your feedback and kudos mean a ton to me, and really appreciate them! <3  
> If you'd like to contact me/request a one-shot/just be a fandom trash bag with me, my tumblr's dontmindme-imafangirl.tumblr.com :) <3


	6. Safe and Sound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hurt Kenma = Angry Kuroo.  
> And an angry Kuroo is not a force to be reckoned with.

_”Kuroo.”_  
”Kozume.  
_The pout on his face let him know that using that name with him wasn’t appreciated._  
_”Sorry. Kenma.”_  
_”Are we really doing this?”_ _the petite boy asked, Kuroo’s apology lost on him._  
_”Well, we already shoved all our belongings in a bag, so we might as well right?”, he joked, using his best efforts to make light of the situation._  
_Yet, the clenching of Kenma’s fists made him think twice, made him grit his teeth and sigh, flopping himself down and over their backpack, bearing the little clothing and items they both owned._  
_”This place is hell. I don’t know how long we’ll survive in here Kenma.”_ He could feel his throat itch with an unspoken cry, but he swallowed it down. If not for his own sake, then at least for Kenma. For the small, frail, frightened boy.

_With his eyes shut, he felt the gentle warmth of a hand meeting his own._  
_Kenma was kneeling next to him, grasping his hand in his own, eyes meeting his now open ones._  
_”I didn’t mean what you think I did.”_

_Despite knowing Kenma for five years now, protecting each other for so long, sometimes his pointed looks fell short on Kuroo, their hidden meaning being far too much for him to bear. This time wasn’t one of them._

_”You’re worried. Worried that I’m leaving people behind.”_

_The smaller boy shifted his eyes, and that was all the confirmation Kuroo needed, before pulling him in and hiding his face in the crook of his neck, feeling Kenma’s dark hair tickle his nose._

_”We’re in this together. Us two against everyone. Isn’t that what we agreed on?” he breathed the words into Kenma’s neck, feeling the boy’s breath hitch._

_He moved away from his neck, pulling loose strands of hair along with him, gently untagging them from his fingers._

_”I promised you. I’ll protect you, no matter what. This time and forever from now on. So let me do that.”_

_With a pointed look, he stood up, grabbing their backpack in one hand and moving to leave the cramped, barely lit bedroom._

_”It doesn’t work that way.”_

_He stopped, turning back to see Kenma, the small boy’s eyes fixated on him, still kneeling on the floor._

_”I’m not just yours to protect. You’re also mine. And I’ll protect you too, Kuroo. No matter what.”_

_Kuroo couldn’t hide the lopsided grin lacing his face._

_”By all means”, he breathed, “do that.”_

*****

“-uroo”  
“Kuroo. Kuroo!”

The voice felt distant in his ears, a loud ringing masking the sound, a blur behind his eyelids fading the person talking.

“Dammit Kuroo, answer me! Can you see? Can you talk to me?”

The fading ring made it possible to him to understand the familiarity of the voice. Wasn’t that…

“Kenma?” he groaned, his eyes finally focusing on the blonde boy’s frantic face.  
Why was he like that…?

With slow deliberate movements Kuroo sat up, assessing the situation he was in.

Slowly, he started remembering what happened. The driving, the bullet, the sound. Him losing control of the steering wheel.

_The bullet_ , he thought, _does that mean…I was shot?_

Despite a massive headache and a slowly fading ringing in his ears, he had full motility of his body. A glance on his legs and abdomen let him know there was no bleeding anywhere, and a pat on his head made it certain that he had nothing more than what seemed to be a small bump on his temple.

Everything was fine yet…why was there so much blood on him?

Frantically, he cupped Kenma’s face with both his hands, looking all over him for signs of injury.  
Kenma was grazed all over, his one eye shut to protect him from the blood dripping from above his brow. 

With a tremor, he let his eyes wander to Kenma’s shirt, noticed the blood seeping through the hem of his sleeve, alerting him that the bullet went straight into Kenma’s arm, pierced through the shoulder more likely.

Surely enough, the memory came back to him, the memory of Kenma flinging himself over Kuroo, moving an arm around his head the minute the bullet made contact with the glass-making him lose control of the steering wheel and crash further down the road.

His vision blurred with pits of fiery red, his shaking palm reached to his shirt and ripped a large piece, which he tied around Kenma’s shoulder with hasty work, despite the boy’s groans of protest.

“Who. Who was it?”

Kuroo could barely recognise his own voice, so raw with anger, and Kenma seemed equal parts shocked.

“Must’ve bee-ah, must’ve been him. Spy.” he croaked, seemingly losing all strength after making sure Kuroo was okay. 

The weakness, the tears on Kenma’s face, made him clench his fists, grit his teeth and scream, blaming every fibre of his being for letting the one person that mattered to him get hurt, get hurt for _his fucking sake_ -

“Kuroo. Stop it. Call Yaku. Backups. We’re moving ahead.”

Kenma groaned in pain but slowly got off the ground, one hand still wrapped around his wounded arm, leaning onto the remains of their car for support.

“Like hell we will! _You’re_ going home. Right now. Then I come back and cut the fucker that hurt you to pieces.” he proclaimed before getting up, moving himself to support Kenma.

“No Kuroo. Mission…mission requires victim to stay alive. We must-“

He cupped Kenma’s face again, making him stop mid-sentence.

“Baby. Kenma. Look at me. He _hurt you._ I _promised_ you didn’t I? Anyone who touches you won’t live to see another day, Nekomata be damned. So _you’re_ letting me take you home, then come back and finish this shit. Clear?”

Kuroo knew that under any other circumstance, if the pain wasn’t consuming Kenma, he’d never let him do as he liked, he’d calmly remind him of the fact that actions have consequences, and often time severe ones.

Yet consequences be damned, there was no way in hell Kuroo would let a person that touched even a hair on Kenma’s face walk this earth unharmed.

The displeased look Kenma tried to give him did nothing to calm his anger, merely upset him further when he noticed how the pain contoured it into a shook expression, making the smaller boy shut his eyes and hurdle into himself as much as possible, sinking back down on the road.

“Kenma”, he sighed, “come here. You’re still bleeding.”

When Kenma made no apparent effort of moving, he hesitantly approached the small ball of a man, extended a hand to help propel him up. 

That’s when it all came back to him-the dream, the ever-occurring nightmare of his Kenma, small and frail and _bleeding_ ; the beatings, the screams that still torment his ears to this day, the fire, the pain; God, the _pain_.

With a profound roughness, he tugged Kenma’s unhurt shoulder, making the boy flinch and giving him the opportunity to tighten the fabric of his shirt around the hurt shoulder, tugging it as tight as he could without further hurting him.

He wiped away the tears and blood off of Kenma’s cheek, and smiled, a small gentle thing unbefitting of the situation.

“Kenma. Look at me. They won’t hurt you anymore. Won’t hurt _us_. You know why?” he huffed a small laugh, which merely made Kenma’s wide eyes open further, his mouth agape and quivering. “It’s because they’re all dead. And those who aren’t will be. Soon.”

Once more, he checked Kenma’s wound, pleased to find that though seemingly deep, there was less blood oozing out now that his jacket was acting as a tourniquet. 

“Now” he huffed as he got up, patting the dirt of the asphalt away from his jeans, “you stay right there and apply pressure to that wound. I’ll call Yaku and have him come here to aid you until I get back.”

With heavy feet, he walked away from Kenma (from _his_ Kenma), picking up his gun that had fallen off of his belt, during the shooting no doubt. 

 

“Kuroo. What are you going to do?”

The croaking coming from Kenma’s throat made him halt his tracks, though, not for long.

“What I always do kitten. What I _promised_ to do. Keep you safe.”

*********

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally parked my car in the middle of nowhere and fiddled around the seats to see what type of movement would be plausible in a case such as this. How much creepier could I get anyway :D
> 
> Also guys, I'm super sorry for the late late updated, I landed a job very suddenly this summer and my free time was scarce, to say the least. However I'll be done with said work soon, so I'll be updating more frequently-thank you for the sweet positive comments and support you're giving this fic, despite my crappy updating speed!  
> Knowing you guys enjoy reading what I write makes me the happiest burrito ever <3
> 
> Also, in case you guys were wondering; the relationship between Kuroo and Kenma is vague on purpose. I will reveal what is going on between the two, but until then feel free to make up your own theories, or even tell me some! I'd love to hear them :)
> 
> As always, feel free to contact me either here via comments or via my tumblr: dontmindme-imafangirl, OR on my snapchat: sophie_babushka  
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated, and once again, thank you for reading!


	7. Whatever is left.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions have consequences. It's about time both boys face them.
> 
> (In other words; let the angst begin)

****

“So you’re telling me that the spy got a whiff of you two going there.”  
“Yup” he mumbled, nibbling the cap of a pen between his teeth.

“He shot the car. Kenma covered for you and got hit. And then the car-“

“Then the car swerved off of the road and we crashed. The dude probably left us for dead and headed back to Oikawas’. I called Yaku to come treat Kenma and tried to locate the spy. I did, he tried to kill me, so, I killed him.”

The raised eyebrow merely made Kuroo shrug his shoulders, the pointed look lost on him.

“What?” Kuroo shrugged, “It was self defence.”  
“Self defence?”  
“Yeah.”

Nekomata sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with wrinkled fingers.

“Son, that still doesn’t explain how or _why_ we found the one person you had to bring back _alive_ …in the state we found him.”

Kuroo grinned, lips spreading wide and manic. “As I said. Self-Defence. I was merely protecting both myself and Kenma.”

“Kuroo. You _chopped him up._ My guys were picking up bits and pieces of what was left of him. That wasn’t self defence.” he got up, his back seemingly further burdened, further slumped,  
“You killing all of those people- _Aoba Josai’s fucking people_ , wasn’t self defence. Your only task was to bring that man back alive. No witnesses.”

“Exactly. I left no witnesses. Did I?”

The indifference in Kuroo’s face both hurt and terrified Nekomata to no extent. He’s been dealing with crime for a living ever since he was a teen, ever since he was this kid’s age; and yet the things he witnessed three days ago, the blood, the gore-Kuroo, a kid he’s known for so long drenched in blood…

“Demon.”

That was the first word that came to mind, and he couldn’t help but blabber it out, electing a response from the cat-eyed boy at last-albeit an odd one.

Kuroo laughed, a soft huff, shaking his head at the word.

“Yeah. I’ve been called that before once too many times. You’re not the first one to think that, Chief.”

As if he suddenly had enough, Kuroo quietly got off of his seat, reaching round Nekomata’s desk and stood in front of him, practically cornering the much shorter, chubbier man.

“I don’t see what’s so demonic about it. ‘Bout what I did. If they hurt the one person you care about, you’ll want to see them suffer, y’know? It’s a normal, healthy, physiological response.” he huffed, making use of all those fancy words he oftentimes heard Yaku and Kenma use.

“He hurt him. He could’ve killed him. Was I supposed to let him go? Just let him go back to acting like Oikawa’s bitch, living the high-life?”

“You were _supposed_ to bring him back here dammit! We would have dealt with it!” Nekomata, unfazed by the boy towering over him, slammed his hand on the wall, making Kuroo flinch, ever the tiniest bit.

“Do you realise what the fuck you just did? If they find out what you’ did, you’ll have ruined all our chances of teaming up with one of the strongest gangs in this fucking city. We’ll be lucky as shit if they don’t attack _us_ , if they don’t chop _us_ to fucking bits like you did them.”

The stoic facade Kuroo was holding didn’t seem to change, despite Nekomata’s outburst.

“You want to keep Kenma safe? How the hell do you think you’ll do that when our group is twice as vulnerable now?! _They_ could crash us to bits at any time now if we’re without allies. Any fucking time.”

The use of Kenma’s name seemed to crack his mask, if the clenching of his jaw was anything to go by.

That very crack didn’t go unnoticed by Nekomata’s gaze. 

“You know what they’ll do to a boy as petite as Kenma? They’ll _break him_ , Kuroo. They’ll hurt him to no end, chop off a limb or two, lock him up for days on end; they’ll tear him to shreds then sell him off for quick cash, just like a carpet rag. Is _that_ what the hell you want to happen? Is it?!”

That seemed to finally make Kuroo snap, his gritted teeth now evidently showing behind his scowl, his fists moving to grab Nekomata by the collar, pushing him up the wall, a loud thud alerting both men that neither him nor the wall would get out of this unscathed.

“You talk about him like that one more time and your _gang_ ’ll be looking for a new boss soon enough.” he spat out the words like it was blood clogging behind his teeth, voice raw and deep and hurt.

“What do you think you know old man? That me and Kenma were sad little pups, that we need _your_ protection? You know shit.” He snarled, the arch in his back reminding Nekomata of the cats he oftentimes saw outside his window in the dead of night.  
Funnily enough, the morning after, he’d only see one of the two or three he would notice the night before.

“I’ve been protecting him from far worse shit than your stupid rivalry gangs. Let ‘em _try_ and hurt him. I won’t let them. Not those fuckers, not you, not anyone.”

“You’re fucking insane Kuroo. Snap out of it!” Nekomata groaned, feeling his breath getting more and more hitched. 

“Insane? Nah. I’m just taking care of what’s mine, like any sane man would.”  
The moment Kuroo let go of Nekomata’s collar, the older man almost choked on air, feeling his lungs finally settling down.

“Don’t test me, Chief. I got the job done, but we had some casualties. You’re the boss, so you can deal with the consequences. Right?”

With that, Kuroo smiled at Nekomata and calmly walked out of the office, almost as if he just had a polite conversation with the guy.

He didn’t notice the crack on the wall, the crumbles gathering round it.  
More so, he didn’t notice Nekomata’s sigh of relied over the fact that Kuroo didn’t notice it-the white envelope sitting atop of Nekomata’s desk, with the figure of a sitting crow sealing it shut.

 

*****

 

By the time he got to Kenma, the boy was already fast asleep, his back arched and his face turned to the window, letting the bask of the sun warm him up.

Yaku was there too, quietly sitting by the blonde boy’s side, sitting at the foot of the bed and reading whatever latest book he was into-Kuroo stopped paying attention after the Lovercraft short stories collection the young kid managed to get Kenma into.

Lev, the massive hyper-active Russian, was of course also there, sitting cross legged beside the two, his cheek puffed and seemingly agitated by the silence. However he seemed to know better than to rouse Kenma, if not for Kenma’s sake, then for his own-getting your ass whooped by Yaku is not a small matter, or so Kuroo found out.

The minute the two boys noticed him they grinned, Lev, like always, opening his mouth wide to scream out, cheer or say whatever the first thing that popped in his head was. Yet one look from Yaku silenced him on the spot, making him puff and return his attention back to his phone.

Kuroo nodded to Yaku, pointing the door to him in hopes he’d get it and come out of there-as bad of an idea as it was to leave Kenma with Lev.

Yaku took the hint and quietly let his book down and by Kenma’s side, prodding outside the room and out in the apartment’s balcony, where Kuroo was already waiting with a lit cigarette between his lips.

“How’s he? Any change since I left?” 

“You were merely gone for an hour, idiot. But, he is better.”, Yaku mumbled, shaking his head at Kuroo’s offer for a cigarette. “He lost a lot of blood but not enough to be life-threatening. No major artery was hit apparently, and the doctor Nekomata sent said he’ll be able to heal fully soon enough.”

“How soon is soon enough though.” Kuroo stated, pointedly avoiding Yaku’s gaze.

“That, he didn’t say. You can be certain there’ll be quite a few missions you’ll have to go solo to, until he heals at least.”

Kuroo could only laugh at the seriousness Yaku was saying all this with, almost like a mother lecturing her child.

“I’ll lay off of missions until he can join me.”  
“Kuroo-“

“Yaku. Gimme a break. Why the hell are you all acting so motherly all of a sudden? First Nekomata, now you-“

“That’s the thing Kuroo. It’s _not_ all of a sudden!”  
Yaku never raised his voice. He always preached amity and patience, and sure, even if he gave a smack or two to Lev, he never really _yelled_ at him.

So seeing the much smaller man yell, eyes fierce and hands clenching on the rail of the balcony, was no joke, even to Kuroo.

“I’ve been worried sick about you two and how glued to the hip you are since the moment you first set foot in this group. Since that very first day when you two..”

“Don’t talk about that. I’m serious Yaku.”

He seemed to get the hint and stopped, letting the events of that day roll off of both of them, sighing deep before carrying on. 

Neither wanted to remember the state the two boys arrived in- disshelved, famished and with eyes so harsh and untrusting, except when they looked at each other.

“Look Kuroo, my point is, what you two have going on isn’t _healthy_. Of course it’s normal to depend on one person more than the other, but not like in the way you two do. That’s not dependancy. It’s an obsession.”

The glare Kuroo was giving him between puffs of smoke was apparently not enough to stop his words, rolling out of him like a waterfall.

“I get it okay? If Lev got hurt…I’d also be upset. Very upset. And if he was in immediate danger, I’d protect him, even if it put my life on the line. But I’d also do the same for you, or for Kenma. Because though I care deeply for Lev, I also care about _you two_.” he noticed the silent pout Kuroo was sporting, but carried on, realising that it was now or never; he had to convince Kuroo, and he had to do it _now_.

“I don’t know what you two went through as kids, or what you were doing before you got here. But you’re part of a group now, Kuroo. Both you and him. And you have people that care about you, that want to help you, both of you. Yet you’re pushing everyone away, only letting each other get close. That’s _not healthy_.”

Kuroo’s face was turned away, making it difficult for the shorter man to know what sort of expression his friend was wearing, wether or not his words made an impact or not. 

He gingerly put a hand on Kuroo’s arm, his brows furrowed with worry. 

“Kuroo. Please, let me help you two. If you just let me be your _friend.._ -“

“Friend?”

Yaku gulped and nodded, despite Kuroo’s face still being turned away from him.

“Friend. Hah.” He noticed the taller boy’s back shake with laughter, his face hidden in his palm, cigarette long forgotten between his fingers.

“I had that once. Friends.”  
Yaku couldn’t help but perk up at the words, wondering if this was finally it-Kuroo opening up to him.

“You know what happened?” he smiled, vicious eyes finally meeting Yakus’. “I burned them to a crisp.”

The gulp in Yaku’s throat didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Their memory, the shared past, everything. I burned it down, for Kenma’s sake. Because if I didn’t do that, we’d never be here right now, both of us, _alive_.” 

The hand on Kuroo’s arm slowly fell away, making him smile further, eyes softening despite the rage conquering his body.

“So no, Yaku. I don’t need you. _Kenma_ doesn’t need you. Not as a friend, not as anything. Because anything more than the two of us is a crowd, and a hindrance.” With a nod, Kuroo threw his cigarette to the floor, before stomping it off and returning back inside, barely sparing a glance at Yaku’s way.

“Go get your freakish pet and get out, Yaku. Now.”

Yaku could do nothing but stand there, arms by his side, suddenly trembling despite the heat the summer sun was offering.

“Lost gone”, he mumbled, “he’s too far gone…I’m sorry, Kenma.”

 

*****

 

By the time Kenma opened his eyes, the sun was already going down, lazy rays lacing themselves with pinks and oranges, both giving way to the dark.

The weight by his side made him huff, wearily turning around, only to find hazel eyes meeting hazel. 

“Rise and shine, kitten.” Kuroo was laying next to him, trying to take as little space as he could, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose-an evident sign he was reading.

“Kuroo” he smiled, small and gentle and just enough for Kuroo’s heart to flutter. 

He softly placed a kiss atop the blonde boy’s nose, smiling at Kenma’s habitual nose-wrinkling at the action.

“It’s jut past seven, if you’re wondering what time it is. Lev and Yaku left a while ago.”

Kenma just groaned in agreement, closing his eyes again before wriggling his way to Kuroo’s side, face hidden in his ribcage.

“C’mon sugar, you should get up and eat something, then let me change your gauze. Doctor’s orders.” he mumbled in Kenma’s hair, voice seemingly lost within the fluff atop his friend’s head.

“Kuroo”, he mumbled, this time raising his head to rest it under his arm, finally able to look Kuroo in the eye, “Why didn’t you tell me.”

“Tell you what?” he asked, smile still perched on his lips.

“About the spy. What you did.”  
“I told you, didn’t I? That it was all taken care of.”  
“You didn’t tell me you killed him.”

Kuroo huffed, shaking his head.  
“Kitten, what else could I mean when I say it’s taken care of?”

Kuroo could feel his heart drop when the gold he was so used to looking into shifted, Kenma’s back turning to him once more.

“Do you think…”

He shifted, moving one hand to rub soothing circles down the smaller boy’s back.  
“Think what?”

“Just. Do you think we’re in the wrong?”  
Kenma turned once again to face him when the circles on his back stopped, flinching a bit when his wounded shoulder made contact with the mattress.

“You talked with Yaku.” Kuroo stated, sitting up on the bed.  
“I did. But this is something I was thinking about long before talking with him.”  
“No it’s not. You never told me this before.”

Kenma pouted, slowly lifting himself up with one arm, making sure to avoid further contact between his shoulder and the bed.

“I didn’t tell you this before. Because it’d hurt you.” he sighed, moving his injured arm softly to meet Kuroo’s fingertips, tracing over his knuckles until the older boy turned his hand, exposing his palm to Kenma.

“You’d never hurt me.” he stated, grasping Kenma’s fingers between his.

“No, I wouldn’t. But you do.”

Kenma tried freeing his hand from Kuroo, but that only made the boy clench his hand tighter, enough to hold him there but not enough to bruise.

“You hurt yourself daily. For my sake. Even when it’s not necessary.”  
He let his eyes wonder to Kuroo’s face, who was seemingly focused on their hands, though he couldn’t hide the pain in his expression from Kenma-not even if he tried.

“You’re my person”, Kuroo breathed, voice barely above a whisper, “You’re my person, you’re _mine_. It’s fine if I’m hurt, so long as you’re not.”

Kenma smiled, moving his free hand to trace Kuroo’s jaw.  
“You act like you don’t get it. Please don’t do that. It hurts.” 

Kuroo moved his head further into the touch, letting Kenma’s palm find his cheek.

“You don’t want to see me hurt either.” Kuroo stated, albeit with a certain complaint in his voice.

“I’d rather die than see you hurt. And you’d rather die than see me hurt.” Kenma laughed, turning his gaze back down to their clasped hands, resting atop Kuroo’s lap.

“We’re killing each other, aren’t we.” he mumbled, making Kuroo fully turn to him.

“We _saved_ each other, Kenma.”  
“We did. Once. And then we started hurting one another, for the sake of..”

Kuroo never noticed. How they never actually said it. Never talked about it, like a common secret, shared between them yet never spoken.

“For the sake of us. Because we care about one another. We lo-“

“Don’t say it Kuroo.” 

Kuroo’s eyes widened at the sight-Kenma was trembling, tears pooling up in his eyes, his favourite golden hazing behind a sodden barricade, lips quivering behind his small brittle smile.

“If you say it you’ll kill me.”

He had no idea what to do. He could feel his own heartbeat race, his skin suddenly sitting restlessly over his body. 

“Kenma..what do you want me to do?” That was the most words he could master at the sight-of course he saw Kenma cry one too many times before, yet never, not even once, was he the cause of his tears. Had he gone too far? Did he…did he hurt Kenma after all?

“Just. Hug me.” he mumbled behind his sleeve, his sweater wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop pouring. 

They didn’t stop, even when he was wrapped in Kuroo’s arms, the warmth and comforting scent only making them fall harder, turning gentle tears into full blown sobs, his nails digging into the skin of Kuroo’s back, through the fabric of his shirt.

There wasn’t much he could do. Out of all the days in his life, Kuroo had never felt as powerless, as incapable as he did right then. All he could do was stay there, holding him as tightly as he could, breathing in the same pain, the guilt, the fear. 

There wasn’t much he could do. Not when the reason for this pain was none other than himself.

 

*****

 

_I must’ve cried myself to sleep_ he thought, quietly shifting on the bed, noticing the darkness outside.  
Surely enough the clock hanging on the wall read 4.00a.m, the time where the sun is not yet ready to get up, and the moon is all ready to leave the sky for another’s reign to follow.

The hand softly wrapped around his waist reassured him he hadn’t woken him up-he needed the sleep, after that ordeal before.

With supple movements, he placed a ginger kiss on his lips and moved the hand off of him-despite his usual alertness, the boy didn’t rouse from his sleep, making him realise how tired he must be. How oh so very, very, tired.

He grabbed the phone on his way out, his footsteps so light one could never hear him leave or enter. Of course. He wasn’t called how he was called for nothing.

Despite it being summer, the minute he set foot out of the apartment, the cold of the night hit him, making him almost regret his decision of going outside. Almost.

He made his way a few blocks down before finally turning the phone on, swiftly changing the SIM card for another, unused one.  
It only rang two times before he picked up.

“Boss. Did it come?”

“Kenma”, Nekomata’s voice echoed through the phone, “It did. I need to ask you once more, though. Are you sure about this?”

He pondered for a minute. He did that a lot this past few days, more so than other times. Every time the rational part of him got mixed up with his feelings, and he couldn’t get to a conclusion. 

But now, Kenma was certain. This was something he had to do, no matter how painful, despite feeling the tears threatening to fall once again.

“Yes. I’m sure. That’s my answer. What’s theirs?”

Nekomata sighed on the receiver.  
“They said yes, Kenma. The crows want you. They’re willing to let you join.”

“So what does that mean?“

They say when a person dies, you need to say the words as they are to their loved ones. You can’t dance around the subject. Kenma thought so too. That he wouldn’t be able to process it unless he heard it word to word.

“It means what it means. Per your request, you are as of now, a member of Karasuno.”

 

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My neighbour's kids were having a party up until now. So I wrote until it stopped and I could finally sleep, lol.  
> With that being said, please forgive any errors, I didn't double check the chapter tbh, I'm too sleepy for that ;-;
> 
> Also-Please blame my best friend and her spotify playlist that I was listening to for the angst. Not that it wouldn't come sooner or later :D No really I'm sorry, but I love to write teary-eyed angsty KuroKen. Hope you guys forgive me <3
> 
> As always, kudos/comments are very much appreciated, and reading what you guys think makes me a mush of happiness! 
> 
> If you'd like to contact me, feel free to do so on my tumblr: dontmindme-imafangirl or on my snapchat: sophie_babushka :) I also do one-shot requests from time to time! <3
> 
> And that's all for now, hope you enjoy, and I'm heading to bed, lol. Have a lovely day/night!


	8. Pushaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst. Oh so much angst.

****  
He still remembers the day he was taken away from that hell.

It was on his sixth birthday. His parents, per usual, where nowhere to be found, not that early in the morning at least.  
Per usual, he was still resting the pain of the previous day of his weary petite body, his fatigue evident on his face.  
Per usual, he woke up to an empty house, an empty fridge; the growling of his stomach was a constant that felt almost welcome by now.  
Per usual, he was alone, surrounded by darkness, knowing what consequences opening the blinds would bring. 

What wasn’t as usual however, was the knock on his front door. He assumed it must be _them_ ; perhaps fending off another drunken night, returning home in a state that wouldn’t allow them to use their keys, so he thought little of it, despite the oddness of the hour.

With both hands, he pushed the door, practically holding on to it with his small form to keep it open.

_Well_ , he thought, _this is weird._

“Hi honey”, he heard her say, “Are you Kozume Kenma?”

Everything from this moment on is a bit fuzzy in his head.  
He remembers a lady with dark hair in a bun and a suit asking him questions, about where his mom and dad were, what their jobs were, if there was someone home right now; what he ate yesterday (which seemed so odd at the time, that it particularly stood out in his mind), and wether he hurt himself while playing the day before or not (again, he found this equally odd-why would his mom and dad let him go out and play?)

He remembers bits and pieces of what happened next.  
_They_ came home, screaming about one thing or another; the lady was still there, still talking with him when they barged in, moving herself to stand between them and him, as a barrier of sorts.  
They stopped in their steps when they saw her, a small smile on both their lips-he could’ve sworn she smirked at them as well, but honestly, he could be wrong. Her back was turned to him the whole time.

He remembers the lady telling him to stay there while she talked with his mommy and daddy. She took them to another room, letting him do what he pleased with himself, which wasn’t much. He decided to start braiding and unbraiding his hair, a skill long forgotten by now. 

He remembers her coming back, telling him to go say bye to his parents and pack the things he liked from his room (she said that he could leave the clothes he didn’t want, she’d get more for him later). He found it weird, sure, but he knew better than to defy a person so much bigger than him. 

The moment he stepped out of the house and into the car, he could’ve sworn he felt like stepping into a chariot taking him straight to the heavens.

How could he have known it was leading him to nothing more than another hell. 

Yet, despite all the pain, the tears, the bruises, despite them all-

He’d go through it all again, and a million times more, if it was to meet him again. 

All the pain in the world would be welcome, if it were to be with Kuroo.

****

He doesn’t remember much of how he ended up there. 

He finds it’s pretty normal not to-after all, both his parents died in that car accident when he was no more than three or four years old, barely old enough to be coherent and able to understand what death even _was_. He knew that his mommy and daddy loved him dearly, but they had no other family to take care of him, and that this 'nice' lady that came over to their house was going to take him to his new home. 

He thinks he remembers her saying how much he’d like it there, but he could be wrong-he doubted she could make up that big of a lie.

He pretty much grew up in that shithole, barely scraping by until he finally learned to be cunning, deceit finding its way into his bones, into his entire being.

Soon enough, he was crowned the Black Cat, able to sneak by anything and everything.  
He was punished for it, of course, but never because he was found out. How could those fools ever find him, even when he was right under their noses? They could barely see their own asses, never less a kid like him. No, it was usually the fault of others that led him to such consequences.

He found out that if he were to survive, there were no bonds to be made. Sure, he always had people around him, but he knew they were merely there to leech off of him, try and use him to the best of their capabilities. Little did they know the ones being used were them.  
By the time he turned eight, he had given up on ever leaving that place, finally aware of the fact that no, there was no way out, not even in adulthood. 

Yet, whilst awaiting the doom that was to come, whilst hidden in pits of despair, whilst building up meter-high walls, he found _him_ , and it was as if everything he was working on had crumbled down in a matter of seconds.

The very second they met, the moment he laid his eyes on him, on that pair of golden gems looking straight at him-he knew, at that very second, that he _had_ to find a way out of there.

If not for himself, then for him. For Kenma.

*****

“You went out last night.”

He had finally managed to get out of bed and actually do some work, the stretches he was told to work on straining his wounded arm in an almost pleasant kind of way.

“I did.”

Kuroo’s eyes were focused on him, gaze following his arching back.

“Where did you go?”

Kenma sighed, slowly stretching his arms over his head and gently closing his eyes, as if darkness would make everything better.

“To the kitchen. I wanted some water and painkillers.”

Even with his eyes shut, he could feel the glare Kuroo was giving him. 

“You opened the main door.”

“Yes, I wanted some fresh air. I’ve been inside for days on end now.”

This felt almost like a script, and Kenma was merely reciting his lines.  
Yet, so was Kuroo.

“That never seemed to bother you before.”

He tried not to break character, slowly opening his eyes. Kuroo was across of him, on the other side of the kitchen counter, sitting on a chair with his one foot over the other, a pout evident on his face.

He approached him, trudging his steps, until he reached his lap and settled himself atop of it.

He hid his face into the mop of jet black hair, the all-too familiar scent consuming him whole.  
_Don’t break character. Don’t break character._

“It’s close to that day. I can’t stay in the house for too long. I don’t like it when it’s dark.”

 

Using _that day_ as an excuse left him feeling a sort of profound guilt he never felt before.  
He choked back the bitter feeling in his throat, his eyes burning and itching. But he wasn’t about to give in. Not now. For Kuroo’s sake.

The feeling of an arm gripping his waist snapped him out of his thoughts.

“We can go out. Not on a mission. Let’s just go out, anywhere you want. I’ll take you.”

Kenma smiled, feeling the sting of copper in his mouth.

“Anywhere I want?”

He felt Kuroo’s laugh more than he heard it, the vibration of his chest meeting his.

“Sure. Just name it.”

He removed himself from his hide-out in Kuroo’s hair, meeting his eyes, surprised by the intent gold despite waking up to it everyday for so long now.

“Let’s go to Paris. Just the two of us. Together.”

Kuroo’s cheer turned into a bitter smile, a small complaint evident in his gold.

“Kenma…”

“I know, we don’t have IDs. We can forge them though. Can’t we?”

He tried pouting, pursing his lips and inching closer to Kuroo to meet his chest flush on to his, but that only made the bigger boy’s smile fade.

“Baby, we can’t. You know we can’t. Nekoma won’t give us fake IDs just like that, and even if they did, with all that technology they’d find us out on the spot.”

Kenma kept the pout for a moment longer, but the apology in Kuroo’s face hurt to watch.

He cowered down and pecked his lips, dragging his fingertips on Kuroo’s stubble, content he got him to grow it so.

“I’m just joking. Let’s go for a walk. At the park at the end of the street.”

Kuroo returned the peck with a kiss on his cheek, lazily letting his hand fit between Kenma’s.

“Okay, let’s go to the park. I’ll get you those weird sugary mushy things you love so much.”

“They’re called _mochi_ Kuroo. And you secretly like them.”

Kuroo laughed, big and bright and heartbreakingly so, small crows feet forming at the sides of his eyes. Kenma merely wished he could kiss each and every one.

“Okay, okay, maybe I do. Go get dressed, and let’s go.”

He kissed him once more before gently propping him off of his lap, smile etched on his lips the whole time.  
Kenma did his best to return it, before turning his back and leaving the room.

_Don’t break character Kenma. Not yet. Not now. Not if you want to protect him._

******  
It was already way past sunset by the time they headed back, hand in hand, Kenma’s fingers covered in Kuroo’s jacket, per usual hogging the taller boy’s clothes. 

Kuroo was merely a step ahead of him, seemingly completely at ease when his fingers were laced with his his. 

Kenma didn’t know holding hands with someone could be this painful.

He noticed every single thing about him. He always did, of course; he knew Kuroo’s every crook and premise, his every quirk and attribute, his likes and dislikes, his little click of tongue when he got annoyed, the random thoughts that hit him early in the morning-his face whenever he looked at him, eyes bright and sweet and full of…of _love_.

Why did they never say it to each other? Why were these three words the hardest thing for them to say, despite showing it with every action of theirs? Each and every step Kenma took, each breath he took, each beat of his heart-it was all for _him_. He was full to the brim with _Kuroo_ , to the point that he may just as well be nothing more than an extension of Kuroo’s body, a part of his own heart splitting and making up another, only for the sake of protecting him, cherishing him..  
Loving him.

Yet over time he tried to phrase that, he felt his throat constrict, as if a curse wouldn’t let him speak a word of the pain in his heart, of the overwhelming sense of cherishing someone as much as he did just then. 

There were so many times he could’ve said it, _wanted_ to say it; the first time Kuroo grabbed his hand, clenched tight in his, yelling at him to ‘ _run, run away with him, let him protect him_. When he first touched his cheek, slowly letting his lips meet his, a kiss clumsy and gentle and rough at the same time, so befitting of the two. He could’ve said it that night they fell asleep in each others embrace. That night when they first met each other skin to skin, heart to heart, hand in hand. He could’ve said it last night, when he woke up, Kuroo’s arm around his waist, his breath even and calm, almost as if just by touching him his whole existence fell into place.

He could’ve said it so many times, in so many years. Hell, he wanted to say it right _now_ , just let it out of his chest, yell it for the world to hear, let them all know that he’s _his_ …

But he had lost that privilege the moment he betrayed him so.

“Kenma.”

He could only hum a response, fearing his own voice would betray him.

“This was the first time you ever lied to me.”

The pain in that sentence was enough to stop his heart.

“I know you left last night. You kissed my forehead before you left. I felt it. You left the apartment, and you’re not telling me why.”

He couldn’t stop, his eyes burned, his head screamed at him to let go, to run, leave, leave right then and now-

“You know I will forgive anything you ever do right? You could shove a knife in my throat and I’d say ‘thank you’.”

He finally turned to face him, and all the pain he was carrying seemed to push its way out of his eyes. 

“Kenma. Anything you do, I can forgive. You just need to _tell me_.”

He tried to stop it, he really did, but it was too much, he was sobbing, cries finding their way out of his mouth, his eyes hidden behind the sweater that did nothing to help his ache when he brought it to his face and he was engulfed in _Kuroo_ and his scent, his wamth, his-

“Please kitten. Just tell me. We’ll work it out, we always do. I protect you right? And you protect me. That’s how it goes with us two. We’re there for each other, always, right?”

He kneeled down, bringing a hand to wipe away the waterfall streaking Kenma’s cheeks.

“It’s always been us two and just us two only. Please-kitten please, don’t cry. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

He tried to bring his sobs to a halt, he really did.

_Don’t break character don’t break character don’t break character don’t break-_

“I love you” he mastered between sobs, silently cursing himself.

“Kitten-“

“You know that right? I love you. You love me too, though you can’t say it yet. And we do everything to protect each other. You know that too. You know everything I do is to protect you, right?”

Kuroo’s face was frantic, his eyes wide and lips trembling to etch a smile.

“Baby, what-what did you do Kenma?”

“I-Kuroo I love you.” he could only croak it out of his throat now. “It’s ten years too late, but I just-“

Kuroo’s hands were cupping his face, and he could do nothing else but cry, letting the feelings he carried in him for so long flow out, hoping that maybe letting them out would make everything hurt less.

It didn’t.

“I love you and I’ll protect you. I’ll always protect you. You can hate me if you want, you’ll have every right to, but please just know that, please Kuroo-“

“Kenma. _What did you do?_ ”

“Kuroo.” _Don’t break character don’t break character don’t break character_ “As of tomorrow morning, I’m leaving Nekoma.”

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :D  
> I was writing this whilst listening to Pushover by Anarbor, hence the title <3
> 
> Also, big thanks to my hentai senpai (aka my best friend), faded-r0ses.tumblr.com for reading this chapter over and giving me the OK to post it, plus forgiving me for ignoring the heck out of her whilst writing <3
> 
> As always, kudos/comments are very much appreciated!  
> If you'd like to contact me, feel free to do so on my tumblr (dontmindme-imafangirl.tumblr.com), or my snapchat (sophie_babushka) :)


	9. Fresh Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New faces arrive, to (hopefully) save the day.

****

“Kuroo. Come out man, it’s been days.”  
The knock on the door got absolutely no response.

“Yeah, Kuroo, Yaku’s right. We’re all worried…come on?”  
Lev was hovering over Yaku, as if by peeking through the keyhole would suddenly make Kuroo open up.

Yaku sighed, stretching himself from the door as he did.

“It’s no use. He’s been holed up in there for almost a week now. I doubt he ate anything either…”

Lev shook his head, worry evident in his face.

“Let’s go back for now. He’ll have to come out sooner than later.”, Yaku muttered, nudging Lev away from the apartment.

It had already been five days since Kenma left.  
Everyone in the apartment complex was aware of what had happened-one night there was yelling and cries coming out of that door, and the next everything was silent, minus the shutting of the door the next morning, so silent that it felt almost unbefitting of the ending.

Kuroo hadn’t opened that door ever since Kenma closed it, leaving everyone to wonder wether or not he was really even in there. 

Sure, everyone figured he’d be unavailable for a day or two, and would kick and scream and cry for a while, but no one expected this. No one could have expected Kuroo, loud, defiant, bold Kuroo, to hole up by himself surrounded by four walls, completely removing himself from anything and everyone (as if he was ever truly there).

Lev sighed, scratching the back of his neck as he and Yaku made their way to their own apartment.

“Yaku, he hasn’t moved in so long…do you think he’s dead?”  
That only earned him a slap on the stomach, loud but presumably not painful-not for a two feet buff russian like Lev, at least.

“Don’t be stupid. He’s not dead. He’s just…grieving.”

The confused smile Lev gave him made him chuckle, despite the ordeal.

“Kenma’s not dead either, if that’s what you’re thinking. I-diot.”

“But Yaku, if he’s not dead then where is he?! No one’s heard a word from him, no one knows where he went…what the hell is going on?”

Yaku knew how attached Lev had become to Kenma, and it broke his heart to have to be the one to tell him that no, he didn’t know where Kenma was, that even if he did it’s classified information and can’t be shared with anyone else-

“Yaku. Yaku it’s okay, I won’t ask again, I promise. Please stop pouting?”

The shorter boy hadn’t even noticed it himself. Want to or not, he had gotten equally attached with the golden-eyed kid, with Kuroo. He wished there was something, _anything_ he could do to help both of them…

He could almost feel the lightbulb flashing over his head.

“Lev. You want Kuroo to cheer up, right?”

“Well, I mean, he _is_ less terrifying when he’s not depressed…”

Yaku laughed, patting the taller boy’s back.  
“Then I know _just_ the guy to call.”

 

****

He knew not to expect much when he first set foot into their territory. After all, expectation only led to disappointment. 

However, he didn’t expect to find _this_ the moment he set foot into his assigned workspace. 

The moment he opened the door, he found a figure, sitting in pitch black darkness straight in front of a computer, his back seemingly turned to him. 

He could see a mob of blonde hair on the man, with what he thought to be broad shoulders, hidden under a tight-fitting sweater.

How should one even deal with such a situation? Especially him of all people, when his social interaction skills were below average, especially without-

“Can I help you, brat?”

The man turned around in his chair, side-eyeing him behind framed glasses, his eyes gleaming from the illumination of the computer screen.

“I-“

“Hold up, who the _hell_ are you? You’re not part of this group.”

“I’m-“

“Your name. Now.”

“Kenma. Kozume Kenma.” He hated the sound of his own voice as he said the name.

The man turned his back for a second, swiftly typing on the computer before turning around, this time getting off of the chair and moving to stand right in front of Kenma.

God, this guy was _tall_.

“You’re not in my system. As a matter of fact, you’re not in _any_ system, worldwide. So who the _fuck_ are you, brat?”

Kenma’s senses were on overdrive, and he was about to dip for the knife hidden behind his back, slice the guy and run, when the door behind him slammed open, bringing light into the pitch black, almost annoyingly so.

“Tsukki! Ah-shit Tsukki don’t kill the new guy! Stop!”  
“New guy? What the hell Yamaguchi.”

Kenma grabbed the opportunity to slip away from the two men, bringing himself as close to the door as possible, before the tall guy that was apparently called ‘Tsukki’ grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Not so fast kid.” he said as he dragged Kenma in a chokehold, giving him no room to escape. “Yamaguchi. Explain.”

The tall freckled kid- _Yamaguchi_ , shrugged, awkwardly smiling down at Kenma.

“You’re Kozume right?” 

Kenma hissed at the sound of _that_ but nodded, figuring honesty would be the best option in this case.

“Well, I’m Tadashi Yamaguchi, and this tall guy is Kei Tsukishima. He’s the one you’ll be working with from now on.”

Both men gasped at the sound of that.

“The hell?! I never asked for a helper!”

“Ah see, it’s not really a helper…more like, an _apprentice_? That’s what Boss called him at least.”

“Appre- _Apprentice_?! I refuse!”

Yamaguchi shrugged again, flail smile about to drop off of his lips.

“You can’t really refuse Tsukki…Boss’s orders.”

“Fuck that. Get this pre-teen out of my workspace.”

“Tsukki…”

The taller guy groaned, rubbing the the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses.

“Fine. Fine. What does his douchebaggery want me to teach this brat?”

The kid named Yamaguchi remained silent for a moment, presumably giving a meaningful glance to Tsukishima- though that was entirely lost on Kenma.

“He can’t be serious. He wants me to teach this kid _hacking_?!”

“Boss said he’s really fast to catch on to things, so it should be no trouble-“

“Fuck. That.”

“Tsukki-“

“You know what? Why don’t you let that hyper-active ten year old deal with it. He’s a hacker too yeah? Let him spend some of that energy elsewhere.”

“Tsukki, Hinata is out on a mission until next week…besides _you’re_ the one they pride as the best hacker nationwide.”

The blonde man seemed to brighten up at the praise, ever so slightly. 

“I _am_ the best hacker nationwide, which is _exactly_ why I don’t need yet another twelve year old running around and damaging my work!”

Yamaguchi was about to speak up, but Kenma had had enough. He grabbed the arm Tsukishima had wrapped around his neck and pulled, making sure to bring his knee up the moment the tall guy lost balance so that he’d find him straight in the stomach, then pushing his leg back down and tripping the man so he’d fall flat on the floor, giving him the perfect chance to bring the knife out of his back and aim it right on his neck.

“Shut up. I can kill you right here, right now, and then take out that freckled kid over there that you cherish so.”

The widening of Tsukishimas eyes made him smirk, pushing the blade further down.

“What, you thought I couldn’t tell? Guess this _pre-teeen_ is smarter than you thought.”

He felt the freckled kid-Yamaguchi, move behind him, so he stirred, releasing the blade from the tall boy’s throat and bringing his arm to Yamaguchi’s knee, making the boy lose his balance and fall flat beside him.

With a huff, Kenma got up, patting his pants clean in the process.

“Before you keep running your mouth, you should know I already know some basics. I took care of most of Nekoma’s electronics and have changed IPs like shirts.”

With the adrenaline slowly leaving his body, he realised in just what a mess he brought himself into…what the _hell_ made him think attacking the guy who was to look after him was a good idea..?!

Yet, the moment Tsukishima regained his balance and got up, he didn’t lunge after Kenma, nor did he glare at him or anything of the sort.

No. Tsukishima _laughed_ , voice loud and clear, and even shocking Yamaguchi, the kid who was still on the floor, eyes wide and pleading.

“Didn’t think you’d have it in you to do all this, kid.”

He moved closer, bringing an arm up to Kenma’s shoulder, despite the flinch and glare Kenma gave him.

“You know what? I like you.”

That seemed to faze Yamaguchi, who moved to stand right behind Tsukishima.

“Tsukki?”

He shook his head, still smiling.

“Alright then, _Kenma_. Get yourself a chair and let’s see what you got.”

*****

“Yaku…are you sure about this?”

“No.”

The answer seemed to shock Lev, who was fiddling with a pen in his hands, supposedly focusing on the maths book flipped open in front of him.

Yaku sighed, moving a small hand over Lev’s, making him stop his fiddling.

“I’m not sure. But I also can’t think of any alternative. Besides, Boss wasn’t against it…”

“So we should just…wait and see?” Lev moved his other hand to rest atop of Yaku’s, a gesture that brought a small smile on the shorter boy’s face.

“That’s our only option. I think-I think the change of scenery will do him good.”

Lev nodded, but remained silent.

“Okay, enough with this. How about you show me how bad you did on that last excercise, huh?”

Lev’s groan brought a laugh to Yaku’s face.

***

The knocks on his door wouldn’t stop. 

How long has it been anyway? One day? Two? A week? A year maybe?

It didn’t matter. Nothing, nothing matter if he wasn’t with him. 

Everything tasted bland, like left out coffee, and his cigarettes weren’t much of a comfort after the third pack.

_Damn._ Would they finally fucking stop knocking on his door already? 

“Go the _fuck_ away Yaku. I mean it.” He yelled, hoping his voice would be heard from the balcony all the way to the door.

The knocking did stop for a minute, barely enough time for Kuroo to breathe a sigh of relief at the silence, before a louder, more menacing bang was heard, followed by a loud crash, a thud, and footsteps.

In a heartbeat, he pulled out the gun from the back of his belt, aiming it in front of him.  
Despite the pitch black in the apartment, his trained eyes could easily distinguish the figure coming his way.

He was about to shoot, his fingers already pushing on the trigger, when he felt the gun slipping from his hands, and a force surrounding his arm, making him lose balance and fall flat on his ass.

“What the hell-“

He looked up, only to meet with a set of eyes so intense, they were almost his sole focus, were it not for the wide grin on the man’s face, along with the mess of-was that _silver_ hair?! 

“Hey hey hey, glare-head! How nice of you to _finally_ open that door for me!”

_Shit_ , was the only word that ran through Kuroo’s head.

“Bo-Bokuto?!”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the late update T-T Also sorry if this chapter seems a tad too light-hearted in comparison with all of the rest...I needed a break from writing all that angst, lol ((though a LOT more angst will come along soon enough~))
> 
> I don't really have much to say about this chapter...I hope you like the dash of fresh faces, they're all people I really wanted to write into the story! :)
> 
> As always, thanks for reading, kudos/comments are always appreciated, and if you'd like to contact me, feel free to do so on my tumblr: dontmindme-imafangirl or my Instagram: sophiebabushka or my Snapchat: sophiebabushka
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I'll see you at the next chapter! :)
> 
>  
> 
> (BTW: I haven't proof-read this chapter yet, but will soon. If you notice anything is off, please do let me know! Thanks <3)


	10. Open wounds, healing scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenma isn't sure if things are looking up or if he's falling into a spiral of self-loathing.  
> Coincidentally, Kuroo doesn't either.

*****

Work came as easy to him as breathing.

It seemed the world of binary numbers was more than willing to welcome him, and soon enough he found himself not needing the help of the glasses boy-Tsukishima, until he was able to built codes and make systems in record times.

Even Tsukishima’s eyes widened at the speed Kenma learnt new things, how easily he assimilated them into his brain with minimal effort, reaching a level threateningly close to Tsukishima’s in less than a month.

By the end of the first week, Tsukishima knew he had already taken a liking to the golden-eyed kid, his quiet demeanour and threatening glares surprisingly entertaining him through the long hours of endless work.

He was falling into a rhythm in Karasuno, practicing and training in the morning, coding and tracing IPs from evening until late nights, quietly sneering as he noted that his work mate fell asleep on his keyboard on more than one occasion, his glasses sitting uncomfortably atop his nose, stance so open, so vulnerable, it made something twist disgustingly in Kenma’s gut.

This boy hadn’t met real danger, came across any life-or death situations. Not yet. Not as frequently as Kenma had found himself in, his scarred and battered body more than enough proof of the fact.

It was on an evening like this, dark thoughts fluttering in and out of his head, laced with streaks of black and gold and images of soft touches and sharp gentle lulls that he met him.

They were working since morning that day, Tsukishima mumbling something about building up more fake IDs and personas for their members, when the door of their small creaky establishment smashed open, a loud cheer echoing through the darkened room.

Kenma could’ve sworn it was no longer evening when he turned around to note the source of the sound, and had his eyes meet with the sun himself.

It was a boy, not much older than Kenma, a pair of brown slanted eyes meeting his, bright and innocent and so very different from the ones he was used to looking at, adorned with fiery orange locks, further adding to the gleaming image of the smiling kid.

“Tsukki! Hey! I’m back! Did you miss me? I bet you did didn’t you. Look at your gloomy little self! Were you so sad I wasn’t around? Were you?” he grinned, the plundering of questions making Tsukishima groan and let his head fall onto the keyboard.

“Oh great. _You’re_ back.”

The boy smiled brighter if that was ever even possible, and shifter his attention to Kenma, who cowered under the strong gaze. 

“Hey! You’re Kenma! I’m so glad to meet you in person. How do you like it so far, did Tsukishima give you any trouble? Should I be scolding him?”

He reached a hand to Kenma, tilting his head to the side and waiting for Kenma to reach out and shake his hand.

If he was disappointed when the blonde boy remained still, eyeing him up and down with a feline-like curiosity, he never let it show, merely let his hand fall to his side and let out an airy laugh, shaking kenma to his core. 

He wasn’t used to people responding to him in any positive manner of sorts. Defiance like the one he was displaying meant nothing but ‘discipline issues’ or ‘lack of respect’. He was expecting a stern look, a slap to his face, a punishment…

…yet the boy remained still, the look of fresh glee lacing refusing to leave his face.

“Oh right. Kenma, I should probably introduce you to… _this_ ” Tsukishima droned , shifting himself on his chair to nod in their direction.

“Kenma. Please meet Hinata Shoyo, the best hacker I’ve had the unfortunate luck of meeting.”

******

Bokuto was quite nearly fed up with his sluggish companion.

 

Kuroo was one of the people he had met from Nekoma and genially enjoyed being around with. He had joined their group sometime when Kuroo and Kenma had also first joined, but switched soon after, deciding the offer Fukurodani was giving him was much more luring than what Nekoma had to offer-of course, the fact that the rumoured ‘Black Owl’, the man with allure greater than any other and mind as quick as cogs of a well-oiled machine, was also a part of Fukurodani, had quite a bit to do with his decision.

Yet he still kept close ties with the Nekoma members. Their organisations had been working together for years now, nothing but friendly competition existing between them, and he took joy in knowing he could keep the friendships he so easily made in his previous group.

There was something special about what he had with Kuroo, however. The wide-eyed boy had noticed, since the first day of his arrival at Nekoma, that there was something… _off_ about him and Kenma, something sick and twisted in their looks, horrendous experiences engraved into their bodies, into the way they walked and talked, in the way they looked at others.

He was happy when he eventually managed to pierce through that wall they had around them, grin reaching from one ear to another when he reached that stage of comfort with Kuroo where they could sit in his apartment for hours and laugh at nothing and everything, leaving only well into the morning and only due to work.

He was even happier when Kenma also warmed up to him, despite the odd circumstances under which he did. He and Kuroo were drinking well into the night, both men laughing at stories of their past accomplishments, when the petite boy walked into his apartment to find them both with smiles on their faces, the shock at Kuroo’s wide grin evident in his face. 

The pointed look he had given Kuroo was all but lost on Bokuto, but with a nod of Kuroo’s head and a point in their direction, Kenma had suddenly joined in to their conversation, cozing his way on Kuroo’s lap and nodding in acknowledgment at Bokuto’s direction.

Everyone knew the two were attached to the hip, unhealthily so. Yet Bokuto was never one to judge their co-dependance, not when he didn’t know what the story that led them to such a position was. It seemed to him that the two appreciated his silence on the subject, making him more likeable to both parties.

So when he received the call from Yaku, telling him all about how Kenma just _up and left_ , and how horrendously Kuroo was taking it, he wasted no time in rushing to Nekoma’s headquarters the very next day, demanding to see his friend, help him get back on his feet.

The state he found Kuroo in was…expected, if he had to be honest about the whole ordeal. Expecting something, however, and actually facing it, are two entirely different matters.

Kuroo was a wreck. Emotionaly, physically, in every aspect of the word. It hurt to see a person that took so much pride in themselves, a person whose signature look was a small sly smirk, lay heaped on the floor, tears streaking his eyes, empty packets of cigarettes sprewn actoss the floor, adorned with empty liquor bottles, some broken into small sharp fragments, so cunningly gleaming by his side. Bokuto feared the temptation of their sharp pointy ends might reach Kuroo’s mind sooner than later, hence took no time in throwing them away.

They fought at first, Kuroo refusing to do anything until Kenma- _his_ Kenma came the _hell_ back, blaming everyone for his departure, cussing Nekomata and Yaku and Lev and everyone his mind’s memory could offer. Bokuto listened patiently, insisting that none of the people he mentioned had anything to do with Kenma leaving, how he couldn’t blame others for a decision Kenma made on his own.

That only led to more fights, until eventually Bokuto slammed his fists on the table, knuckles reddening at the impact, his teeth painfully gritted and back hunched.

“You can keep blaming everyone around you and argue your pitiful self into oblivion. But you need to fucking face the fact that Kenma is not _here_ and you know what? If you always behaved like this, I can fucking _tell_ why he left.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his lips. 

Yet, as much as Kuroo was taken aback at first, it seemed like something clicked behind his eyelids, a look of resolution and knowing filling his expression, and suddenly he laughed, small huffs turning into manic laughter, his stomach clenching and muscles twitching, eyes brimming with tears.

“Kenma” he huffed between heaps of laughter, “Kenma you cunning bastard.”

Bokuto never received an explanation or a reason behind Kuroo’s words and actions, but after the outburst and a full night’s sleep, Kuroo was almost back to the Kuroo he knew.

Almost being the golden word there. He was up and refreshed the day after, asking Bokuto what the plan was with a tired smile, Bokuto grinning back and telling him to get his ass ready to work.

Training with him was fine. They sparred to their hearts’ contents, competed with each other in weight lifting and agility tests. To his surprise, Kuroo was even up to the task when dealing with small boring jobs, accepting them with a stern nod and complete silence when Nekomata suggested them to the duo.

Yet when Kuroo’s phone rang, the number unknown per usual, he groaned, refusing to answer until Bokuto practically shoved the phone into his eardrum, giving him a stern solemn look.

The call was apparently from the Mad Dog, the obsessively watchful guard of the new leader of Aoba Josai, Oikawa or however the kid was called-Bokuto didn’t particularly know much about him. 

He was apparently offering a job, both to him and Bokuto, as word that a Fukurodani member was roaming around in Nekoma’s lair soon took word in the streets. 

Though Kuroo was about to shut the man down, Bokuto grabbed the phone from his fingers, graciously accepting the work after weeks of little to no big missions, turning down the ones that came to him in order to help his friend work his way back up to the big tasks, figuring out this was as good of a chance as any. 

The glare Kuroo gave him was frustrating, to say the least. 

Yet something deep down in his gut told him there was more to this job offer than what they were led to believe.

***

“Are you done yet?”

He sighed.

“Not yet.”

“Hmm.” the smaller boy hummed, wiggling his feet that barely touched the ground with the height of his chair, hands clasped between his thighs. “Okay.”

There was a beat of silence that Kenma learnt to know wouldn’t last.

“Are you done now?”

“No Shoyo.”

“Okay.” he sighed, sounding more deflated. It twitched something inside Kenma’s chest, an uncomfortable and unfamiliar feeling.

“I will be done soon. Your speed is impeccable, I need more time than you to finish.”

Hinata’s head perked up at that, the radiant pair of eyes latched onto him. 

“It’s okay! You’re already doing so well Ken-chan! I can’t believe you never worked with coding before.” he gushed, making Kenma squeamish at the nickname. There was a certain fondness slowly creeping up to him that he’d much rather avoid, as impossible as that was with someone like Shoyo hanging around him so often.

When Tsukishima stated that Hinata was the greatest hacker he’d ever met, he was most definitely not kidding. Though young, barely the same age as Kenma, the kid was already a prodigy, writing codes and hacking into high-level security pages like it was nothing. 

More so, his energetic nature and impossible speed made him useful both in and out of the field of action, or so Kenma soon discovered.

It was, however, on their very first mission together, after Karasuno’s boss gave him the green light to partake in missions outside their headquarters and away from his computer, where Kenma really noticed that there’s more to the boy then he thought.

He was assigned a simple hit and kill mission with Hinata, and who he found to be Shoyo’s significant other, a gruff angry-looking boy called Tobio. As unapproachable as he seemed, his cold demeanour reminded him so terribly much of the certain person he held dear, that he easily found himself becoming acquainted with the taller boy, leaving for the mission as ‘friends’, or whatever close equivalent to that existed in his vocabulary.

They ran into some complications, their target bringing far more backup then they initially calculated they would, which ended in a rough, hand-to-hand combat. 

Kenma was keeping his ground, trying to protect both himself and his assigned team whilst inflicting as much damage as possible, when he noticed a flash of movements and a rush of orange locks, speed too fast for him to take full notice of the ordeal. 

All he could gather was that Shoyo had unleashed a gush of fast-paced moves that ended with all but them to the floor, each in various stages of unconciousness, a look of primitive ferocity in the small boy’s eyes that made him gulp and move back.

“Don’t look at me like that.” he chided, easily returning back to his usual soft expression, “I didn’t kill them. Killing isn’t my thing. I just…render them unconcious, more or less.” he grinned and Kenma felt his gut unclenching despite himself, glad to know the innocence he saw in the fiery kid still notable even in this situation.

“Besides, if he killed everyone he attacked I’d have no reason to work.” Tobio added, a pointed look at his sniper rifle that laid long forgotten at the side of the alleyway. 

Kenma nodded but said nothing, calculating the whole situation. Even now, weeks after the incident, he still couldn’t quite believe his eyes every time he saw Hinata move. He couldn’t believe himself either, when he softly went up to Shoyo, asking him to teach him sparring techniques. 

He felt..different. It’d been months since he came to Karasuno, and the weight in his heart, though not gone, felt lighter somehow, a certain spring in his feet urging him on despite the pain in his chest. What he did he did with the best intentions, that he knew. 

No matter the pain, no matter the hurt, the sole purpose leading his actions was to protect the one person he cherished most, and that would never change.

The sound of a person clearing their voice behind him steered him clear of his thoughts, shifting his attention behind him and reaching for the knife he still held hidden in his back pocket-a habit he’d never get out of.

“It’s just me.”

“Oh, Tobio! Welcome back. Where were you?” Hinata grinned, his head bobbing in acknowledgment of the boy, who just nodded in response.

“Is Tsukishima and Yamaguchi around?”

Tobio stood awkwardly in front of them, weight shifting from one leg to the other, glancing around the small room. The difference between the Tobio in action and the every day Tobio still surprised Kenma.

“No, I haven’t seen them.” Kenma replied, looking to Hinata for further elaboration.  
“Tsukki left a while ago but I’m not sure where he went. Yamaguchi either.” he hummed, straining his feet to reach the floor and spin in his chair.

Kageyama hummed, blue eyes finally looking up and off of the ground.

“I need to find them. Can you meet me in the training room in ten minutes?”

The cock of Kenma’s head, his silence question as to _why_ wasn’t lost on him.

“There’s a new job for us. It’s not for yet another few months but…you’ll wanna hear this.” there was a sly smile playing on his lips, reminding Kenma of all the expression _he_ wore whenever some good job crossed his path.

“We may just change the name of Karasuno forever with this one.”

******

They drove out to Aoba Josai’s headquarters in silence, the very same night after the call.

All signs pointed out that this was a bad idea.

The Mad Dog hung up on them without disclosing any further information on the task other than to ‘come to the Aoba Josai headquarters at midnight’, and though Bokuto was never one to not appreciate a dramatic flair, he was certain that not disclosing any further information was highly unprofessional.

If it wasn’t just that, he soon enough received a call from Akaashi, the Black Owl himself, instructing him to pick him up and take him to the meeting point with them. Any attempts from his side to find out _how_ and _why_ Akaashi knew anything about this were instantly shot down, adding further confusion to the ordeal.

The fact that they were further instructed to not let Nekomata know about it was the final stroke.

Yet for some reason, _something_ in Bokuto’s gut told him this was the right choice. He had no idea how he managed to convince Kuroo of this-it probably took a lot of begging and shoving, but the man reluctantly agreed, and found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Bokuto’s beat-up old Chevy, the one connection to his life before his underground job that he couldn’t possibly give up, even if he had to change her plate numbers and colours.

The ride to the Aoba Josai headquarters was long, filled with dark narrow streets and rapid turns that widened suddenly, curved roads making it impossible to reach there without an impeccable sense of direction.

How quiet his passengers were on the ride there wasn’t helping-he knew Akaashi to be a very quiet docile person, despite his reputation, but this graveness from Kuroo was a new thing altogether. His efforts in beginning a conversation were crudely cut off, letting him pout in silence.

Eventually, they reached a long paved road through open gates, leading up to a massive white structure, more beckoning of a small palace then the headquarters of one of the biggest mafias this country had to offer.

A man with spiky, radish-shaped hair that later introduced himself as Kindaichi was waiting for them right outside the place once they parked, nervous laughter and small chit-chat leading them along through massive hallways and marbled floors, ending in front of large wooden doors that opened to reveal an office, with a man who could’ve been no other than Oikawa sitting behind it, the Mad Dog naturally by his side.

He smiled when he took notice of the three men, lips tugging so genially yet so dauntingly it brought shivers up Bokuto’s spine, the late time of the night adding to the cold rush he felt.

“Kuroo, my favourite kitten. Where have you been all this time?”

The chilling stare Kuroo gave him did nothing to deter his plastered smirk.  
“Don’t worry, I heard all about how Cutie-chan abandoned you. I’m truly sorry for that, really!” Oikawa sighed, turning his attention back to the Fukurodani members, leaving Kuroo to clench and unclench his fists into the fabric of his shirt.

“Bokuto and Akaashi I take it? Nice to meet you.” he took off from his desk, moving in front of it to greet the pair, Bokuto reluctantly extending his hand for a handshake that Oikawa firmly met, hands cold and rough against his.

“Iwa-chan, you’re the one that contacted Akaashi too right?” he smiled, his voice cooing and pitched as he sheepishly blinked, looking Akaashi up and down.

The Mad Dog nodded gruffly, his expression clearly one of boredom-it seemed that he was immune to Oikawa’s dramatic antics.

He cocked his head and laughed, bringing a hand to Akaashi’s shoudler.

“My, you’re prettier than I expected! No wonder why the rumours of the Black Owl are as they are-you should be named a Siren instead.”

It wasn’t clear to Bokuro wether the man was joking or flirting with the shorter boy, but either way something boiled in his chest, his body ready to pounce on Oikawa and tear his eyes out for daring to look at Akaashi like that-he refused to let _anyone_ disrespect a person he admired so like that.

“Cut the crap Tooru. Why are we here?”

Oikawa, who was absent-mindedly running a finger down a stoic Akaashi’s shirt, stopped, smile paired with a soft look Kuroo’s way.

“Yes, I called you here for something now didn’t I?” he sneered, moving back to face all three men.

“Iwaizumi said you’d found a game-changing job for us, one that should require the cooperation of both Fukurodani and Nekoma to work.”

Akaashi’s voice was expressionless, his face void of expression as usual. Sometimes, Bokuto wondered if he even felt anything at all, ever.

“Nice to know you were paying attention, Pretty Boy.” he straightened his tie, eyes fluttering shut before reopening with a dubious look, smile replaced with a sly grin, and suddenly Bokuto could tell why the young man was crowned the head of Aoba Josai at such a young age-if anything, he most definitely had the guts for it.

 

“I did indeed have such a plan in mind. A game-changing one indeed.”

He turned to the Mad Dog, a pointed look in his way that made the gruff man nod and head to his side, eyeing each of them thoughtfully.

“The job is easy enough. We’re taking down Shiratorizawa. And you’re helping.”  
****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Oh wow, I'm so sorry for not updating this fic in forever. I've got no excuse tbh, other than slowly slipping into other fandoms and writing stuff for them too, plus getting really busy with uni. Still, sorry T-T
> 
> Please don't think I'm dropping this fic! Haikyuu is still one of my main fandoms and I will be finishing this fic even at a slow pace, so please look forward to it!!
> 
> I'll try and update more frequently. Meanwhile, please enjoy this chapter (and if there's any typos please let me know, I haven't proofread it yet ToT), and if you'd like to talk or send in any prompts, my tumblr's dontmindme-imafangirl.tumblr.com :)


	11. Blame Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heist is on, adrenaline pumping through everyone's bloodstream-  
> They had a plan, so meticulously thought out, there was no way it could go wrong.
> 
> Or could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! I'm so so sorry for the delay of this chapter T-T  
> Life got the better of me and my time was minimal...plus I was working on some other projects and had the biggest writing block when it came to Into The Dark...sorry TuT
> 
> However, I'm back and alive, and this fic is nearing it's end! I hope you enjoyed it this far and will continue enjoying the chapters to come!

****

There’s people that wear their hearts on their sleeves.

No hidden meaning, no fake smiles and glassy eyes, just pure honesty and straight-forwardness.

 

Kenma was never one of those people.

Ever since their first meeting all those years back, he knew this boy would be the biggest handful he’d ever have to deal with-no one warned him, however, how he’d love every single minute he struggled.

There was no book on how to decipher pointed looks and shifting movements, and even if there was, none of them could ever pin-point what each shift of fingers or slow blinks of one Kenma Kozume could possibly mean. This was information he could only build up from endless tiring years of experience, sharing as much of himself in the process as Kenma did of him.

Even during the moments were looks were lost and smiles were sorted along with the seven wonders of the world, even then there was always this constant sense of security behind each action, this odd sense of comfort-Kenma wouldn’t leave. Kenma wouldn’t disappear. 

 

There was no book on what to do when the person whose whole life had been spent with you left you to your own devices either, and Kuroo for once wished there was one, even a single copy for him to read and pull his fragmented parts together-refusing to acknowledge the fact that without him, he’d never have all the pieces together.

It seemed hopeless. He’d never understand it, he’d never _want_ to understand it-how could a person you wake up to everyday just up and _go_? How could it not tear their whole existence in two?

Yet, under all the layers of abandonment and insecurities, Kuroo knew. There was pain and reason behind this particular action of his life-long companion, and this wasn’t the type of mystery he could just let be, unsolved and tucked away in the back of his head for future reference.

It took one horrible evening and that damn phrase falling off of Bokuto’s lips for everything to click into place, like the final cog of a machine fitting in and putting everything in action.

_”You can keep blaming everyone around you and argue your pitiful self into oblivion. But you need to fucking face the fact that Kenma is not here and you know what? If you always behaved like this, I can fucking tell why he left.”_

Oh.  
_Oh._

The tears. The shock. Their conversation the day before.

_”You know everything I do is to protect you, right?”_

Slowly the tinkered battered, rusting machine oiled up, fitting small screws and nickels into place.

Their fight that same night.  
It hurt to remember it, more so than having his guts ripped from his body.

The hurt in his voice, the sobs from Kenma’s throat, the harsh exchange of words.

He remembers it, the silent plea in his companions’ eyes, begging him, _needing him_ to understand the reason behind his actions, what drove him to shove this blunt knife into Kuroo’s ribcage.

He remembers thinking about killing Kenma. The only source of light in his life, the only reason he still had a purpose on this earth-the thought of planting a bullet in both their heads after a tearful goodbye was too close to comfort, the gun on his belt tugging his fingers to its side.

One look into the despair in the smaller boy’s eyes pulled him away from that thought-he could never harm a strand of hair on this person, how could he ever possibly pull a trigger between his eyes?

It may be far too late, but Kuroo understands-or at least he hopes he does.

Everything Kuroo did was to protect Kenma. And everything Kenma did was to protect Kuroo.

Only this time wasn’t protecting each other on the battlefield, or from their blood-streaked past, or from the nightmares plaguing them every night.

This time Kenma was protecting him from his own self. From this sick bond, from this twist of fate and the pain of cherishing someone so much you’d put everything on the line for them, their own life be damned.

Neither of them were fools. They both knew how deeply psychotic their obsession with one another was. Kuroo simply thought neither of them minded.

Kenma however seemingly did. It hurt him to see how Kuroo was half a person with him, it hurt him to know that the person he loved wouldn’t ever be complete on his own, how it felt that they were both mere extensions of each other.

His sudden plea suddenly made sense-he wanted Kuroo to be _whole_.

But how could he be whole when a half of him was missing?

He tried. Damn it, he tried everyday, waking up, training, working, then going back to bed to stare into the void where a body once laid, taking in huffs of air that never quite reached his lungs, as if every rib over his chest split to chunks that tore into his heart, ripped his insides to shreds that couldn’t ever get put back together.

Yet he tried, repeating the same process the next day, and the next, and the next, until the swishing of dismembered organs sinking in his body got so familiar he could nearly say he was used to it.

“Black Cat. Report your position.”

He pushed the small button behind his ear with a gloved hand.

“I’m in position, Area Y, located north-east. Should I send coordinates?”

“No need. I trust the practices of these last months taught you exactly where you should be. We go in on my signal.” came the buzzed voice from the earpiece, sending white noise into his head.

He nodded to no one in particular, releasing the communication button in favour of loading his guns and crouching into position, ready to attack.  
This was it.  
This was the day he’d show Kenma what he could be without him. 

He would take down Shiratorizawa, once and for all.

A deep breath later, his earpiece buzzed, the sinister voice of Oikawa coming through loud and clear.

“On my mark boys.”

He closed his eyes. 

This is it. This is his chance.

“Three…”

He was worthy. He’d take down their biggest enemy, the one gang that always rivalled theirs, the biggest obstacle between him and Kenma-or so his mind led him to believe.

“Two…”

Flashes of blonde hair and small smiles rushed through his mind, pushed away by a tear-streaked face and the thought of guns and blood on freshly painted walls.

“One…”

“Go!”

He opened his eyes and smashed into the door in front of him in a heartbeat, cocking his gun and shooting whoever was in his way, not particularly caring if it was a friend or foe-anyone in the Shiratorizawa headquarters didn’t matter to him, not when the person he was fighting for was located God-knows-where.

The area was cleared and secured in a matter of minutes, and soon he was the last man standing, heaving breaths calming the surge of boiling blood crossing its way frantically to his limbs.

This isn’t something that should bring him as much enjoyment as it did.

 

“Area’s clear. I’m moving forward.” he huffed to the earpiece, moving a hand to wipe the sweat of his brow.

“All clear on my end too kiddos. Moving on!”  
How Bokuto was able to be as cheerful a bastard as usual in such a situation was lost on Kuroo. Then again, Kotaro wasn’t the only psychotic person in his list of acquaintances.

“All clear here too.” Akaashi’s voice was heard, followed by a confirmatory gruff from Iwaizumi-the Mad Dog.

“I’m proud of you boys. I knew you had it in you.” Oikawa smirked into his microphone, followed by a disgusting crunching sound-Kuroo shuddered at the thought of what that sound could be.

“All clear on my end too. Follow through and we’ll meet at the Headquarters. Their alarms should all be down so if you did your job nicely and quietly, we should reach that Ushijima asshole within the hour and without obstructions.”

Kuroo took a look around. Sure he wasn’t all that quiet, but then again, he left no witness to run and alert anyone else-and those that tried got more than a few stray bullets.

“Alright, with that..back to work, everyone!” came Oikawa’s voice and Kuroo was back in action within a matter of seconds, staying true to his code name ‘Black Cat’ and merging with the shadows on the walls, attacking anyone in his path with a ferocious finesse only suitable to the most well-poised felines one could ever see.

By the time he was done and made his way right in front of the office one certain Ushijima was residing in, his hands were drenched in blood, his lips tasting crimson and the pain of fighting one too many people evident on his aching muscles.

Still, he was here, and sooner than later the rest of his team was too, all in different states of disshelvement, minus the ever so meticulous Oikawa-the boy, though equally dressed in all black, still looked as pristine as he did before they walked in, not a hint of strain on his body.

He looked up and smiled, the sentiment not quite reaching his freeze-worthy eyes.

“Glad to see we all made it-I expected nothing else. All alarms are turned off and any… _hindrances_ have been taken care of, I presume?”

Kuroo nodded and Oikawa beamed, bringing a hand up to his shoulder.

“Excellent! Great work my little kitten.”  
The growl at the sound of the nickname made the man move away, bringing his hands up in surrender.

“I meant no harm Kuroo. Use that aggressiveness to the guy behind _this_ door.” he pointed his thumb to the large boulder of a door behind Kuroo, the one which would turn their entire status quo around when opened.

“This is it guys. The chance to bring down the biggest obstacle we had in taking control of this area, of this country!” Bokuto all but beamed, wide eyes gleaming over the prize that was only separated by a wall from him.

This was it indeed. This was his chance to redeem himself to Kenma, to show him he wasn’t a useless bastard, that he’d never been one-his chance to pull him back in his claws once again, without drawing blood at the contact this time around.

He nodded to the door, and turned to face it, followed suit by Akaashi and the others. 

“I got a man in front of every door of this establishment. There’s no where for him to hide. He’s going _down_.”

Not one to let Oikawa indulge in his melodramatic antics, Kuroo pushed the door open, drawing his gun the moment he did and facing the large office desk sitting directly in front of him.

One look. One look was all it took to notice it, to let the adrenaline in his blood pump down into nothingness, overturned by a clenched gut and sudden…was this it? Was it fear?

“No-no no _no_ God fucking damn it! How?! How is he _dead_?!”

None of the men dared inch closer-there was no use to.

On the desk was the sprawled out body of a large man, no other than the infamous Ushijima Wakatoshi, blood seeping from one meticulous hole at the side of his skull-  
Something was wrong.

That shot was too perfect, too pinpointed, too narrow-there was no way this was done by someone in close proximity.

“Sniper!” he yelled and ducked, the sound of gunshots ringing in his ears, piercing through shut windows that tore them into bits, bringing shards close enough to pierce his skin, drawing blood and sharp breaths from his fatigued body.

There was an eventual subsiding of bullets firing down, and he dared lean back up, looking to the night sky outside in hopes of getting a glance of who the _fuck_ it was that took _his_ kill-

Both Kuroo’s and everyone else’s attention was drawn to the flicking of screens, both the one on Ushijima’s computer as well as the large flat screens hanging on one wall each-

They flicked open, white noise and grey snow flashing black, until the image of a long, black, glowing feather beamed, slowly falling from the top to the bottom of the screen, creating the effect of glowing ripples once it hit the presumed bottom-if it weren’t for the circumstances being as such, Kuroo could’ve sworn they looked like haloes.

“What the fu-“

“No!”

He turned around, and was at loss of words when he met the image of a frantic Oikawa, his hands tugging at his hair, eyes wide and mouth ajar.

“No fuck it, no! Not them! Not _him_!”

He was breathing hard, alerting even the Mad Dog, who approached him with careful steps, opening his arms around Oikawa-perhaps to calm him or choke him, Kuroo wasn’t sure.

“ _I_ was the one that taught him everything he knows! Me! And this is how he repays me?!” Oikawa fearlessly ran to the windows, pushing his hands on the broken ledges, not even flinching at the blood seeping through his palms upon contact.

“Ushijima was _my_ kill you asshole! You’re not getting away with this! I’ll hunt your crow-ass down to the ends of the universe!” he screamed into the night, only stopping when the Mad Dog pushed a hand in front of his mouth and other wrapping around his waist, pulling him away from the ledge.

Wait.  
Crow? Feathers?

“Karasuno did this?”

The hesitant nod from Akaashi was all he needed before he bolted out the room, running through each hallway with such ferocity that he wasn’t sure his muscles would be able to carry him much further-

-they didn't have to, since sooner than later a throbbing pressure met his stomach, pushing him back and into the ground where he landed with a loud thud, bruising the small of his back.

With a cat-like agility he lifted his hips and jumped back onto his feet, meeting the gleam of a shadow making its way behind him.

It was like dancing with death, each turn meeting a kick or a punch, never quite seeing more of his sparring partner other than flicks of shadows or limbs leaning close to him for a kick or a punch, guns long forgotten.

He eventually caught a glimpse of a body significantly smaller than his, and suddenly everything made sense-the fast paced movements, the quietness of his steps, the sneaky attacks-

He was fighting with Kenma.  
There were a few movements changed, a few punches he never taught the smaller boy and a stamina he never knew he had before, but there was no way around it-the agile boy was Kenma, _his_ Kenma.

“I won’t fight you. Kick me around all you want, I’m not fighting you.”

To prove his point, he let his hands rest at his sides, his head leaned back and eyes closed-earning him a chokehold the moment he shut them, his back roughly meeting the coldness of a brick wall.

“You should be fighting me.”

“Never.”

“We’re not on the same team anymore.”

“You’re my team.”

With the moonlight hitting the back of his captor’s head, he could finally see the snarl forming on lips he once used to kiss, a hostility in golden eyes that he could never imagine, even in his worst nightmares.

“Have you learnt _nothing_?!”

His hair was shorter.  
Kenma never let anyone near his hair.

“I did. I know why you left me. I don’t resent you for it.”

He saw the flinch, the softening of Kenma’s eyes, and he took the chance to bring a hand around the one wrapped over his throat.

“What we have-had. What we had was sick. Obsessive. I know. I know you did this to protect me.”

He pulled the hand away from his throat, bringing it to rest open on his cheek.

“But did you think about yourself at all?”

The moment Kenma averted his gaze he knew he was right.

“You are doing everything for me, but did you think about what _you_ want?” he leaned close, noticing the pout on the blonde boy’s lips, the way his head tilted down, body arching close to his as if by instinct.

“I did what was right.”

“Did you? Or did you just let yourself become a stepping rag?”

“I did what was right. For both of us.”  
“Come back Kenma. Just-come back and let’s work through it together. Restart this whole thing-“

He was about to say more, beg the gold-eyed boy to come back, to let him lean in to the comforting touch once again, pretend they were never broken in the first place, but the moment he did a loud crash brought them both back to the present, reminding them of the heist going on and the situation they were in.

A small figure found itself by Kenma’s side, an almost child-like person with unruly hair and bright eyes as his only visible features, the rest hidden behind a mask and dark clothes.

“Kenma! We’re done, let’s _go_!”

The boy took a look at Kuroo, fear evidently seeping into his body, suddenly tensing and ready to attack-

“Don’t Shoyo. It’s him.”

As if that was clarification enough, the boy gave Kenma a pointed nod and turned on his heel, grabbing a gun from the back of his belt.

“I’ll buy you some time, but we have to go soon. Team B will take care of the rest.”

Kuroo saw Kenma stare down at the boy until his figure merged into the shadows, only then allowing his gaze to return to Kuroo and his hand to fall from his cheek.

“Kenma. What do you want?”

He saw the hidden hesitation, the clench of his jaw, his very core hurting at the sight.

“I don’t…”

“No. You _do_. You’re allowed to have selfish requests. You’re allowed to _want_ things Kenma. So I’m asking you. What do _you_ want?”

There were tears in the corners of the shorter boy’s eyes, and he knew his expression was mirroring Kenma’s, a frantic despair gouging at both their eyes.

“I want…I want us to be okay. I want you to smile and mean it. I want to forget where we came for, what we’ve done, what happened at the orphanage, I want to hug you and not fear that you might _die_ the next day, I want to sleep beside you without waking up in the middle of the night with nightmares from our past, I want to-I want to go on dates with you, be _normal_ -“

He choked back a sob, teeth gritted at the sheer will it took to stop himself from crying his heart out right then and there.

“I want us to fall in love properly. Like we would if we never met the way we did. If we never led our lives to what they are now.” he didn’t know when Kenma’s body found itself wrapped into his, when his words got muffled by the bloodied fabric of his shirt. He wasn’t sure when his own tears started falling either.  
“I want a lot of things, and I can’t do a damn thing about any of them. I just…I just want us to be okay.”

He hid his face into the crown of Kenma’s head, letting the comfort of the action lull his cries away.  
He wants this too. More than anything.  
He just wanted them to be okay.

“Kenma. Kitten? Look at me. Please, look at me.” he cooed, bringing a hand under Kenma’s chin to meet his eyes.

“Do you trust me?” 

“Always.” 

Despite their distance for so long, despite it all, he knew Kenma’s answer was sincere. What they had..it was impossible to get broken down, not by distance, not by time, not by anything.

“We’ll make this work. I promise, I swear to you we will. We’ll fix it.”

Kenma shook his head, backing away from Kuroo as he did.

“Not everything can just be fixed Kuroo. We’re far too late to try and fix..” he waved a hand in the air, “..fix this.”

He tried to call out his name, lean closer, but Kenma just backed away further, refusing to meet him at eye level.

“Just. Promise me. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself. Promise me that I didn't leave for no reason.”

“Kenma don’t-“ he reached out a hand to grasp the smaller boy, but he just leaned away from the touch, increasing their distance all the while. 

“I wish things were different. You _know_ I do. But this is how it is. There’s nothing we can do about it.”

With one last try, he grasped Kenma’s hand in both of his, refusing to bask in the comfort of Kenma’s hand in his.

“There is. We can Kenma, I know we can. Just..just keep your trust in me, and I’ll make this work.”  
He brought the hand grasped in his to his lips, kissing Kenma’s battered knuckles before reluctantly letting him go, every inch of him begging him not to.

“Go to them. But know that I’ll come back for you. I always will.”

Kenma stared, stuck in place, in awe or shock, Kuroo wasn’t sure. There was a brief pause, as if he was contemplating what to say, yet with a small nod he turned, his back facing Kuroo as he moved away.

“Go through the east entrance. There’s less security there. A second team will be coming to deal with what remained, and this team is already departing, so you’ll have a ten-minute window to go through unnoticed. Go.”

He didn’t have to say it for Kuroo to understand the pain in his chest easing up ever so slightly.

_I trust you. I always will._  
_I’ll wait for you._

He turned, running to the opposite direction of Kenma, certainty swallowing his every step.

After all he knew.

Opposite directions or not, their paths would always intertwine.

 

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an apology for the delay, here's an angsty chapter :^)  
> If you'd like to contact me/shriek into the void: My tumblr's dontmindme-imafangirl.tumblr.com 
> 
> Kudos/Comments are as always really appreciated <3  
> See you at the next chapter! (That will hopefully come much sooner than this one did...TuT)
> 
> Title's by the song 'Blame Game' by Kanye West & John Legend :)

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd write something this angsty, yet here we are, and here it is. Then again, it's only my second fic, so yeah, apparently I'm into angst writing, lol.
> 
> Title's from Death Cab For Cutie's 'I will follow you into the dark'. If you guys enjoy it, I might make it into a series!  
> As always, please leave Kudos/Comments if you enjoy this-I squeal like an excited burrito when I see you guys liking my writing >.


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